She sighed softly and almost imperceptibly started to lean towards him. When her back came into contact with his chest, he looked down at her. His arm was stretched lengthwise across her chest, bracing her against him. He let out a shaky breath and tilted his head down, moving closer to her ear.
“You can call me Jay,” he whispered.
He didn't know what he was doing, didn't know what was going on. His mind didn't remember her at all, but his body seemed to know every inch of her. All he knew was her skin felt like home and that when she breathed, he was the one taking in oxygen.
He also didn't know what would have happened next or how far things would have gone between them in that small bathroom. She had just met his gaze in the mirror when there was a sound from outside. People in the hallway, talking. Kitty and Mrs. Sloan.
Whatever magic had been happening, those voices broke the spell. While they stared at each other, he slowly pulled his arm free of her and she took a step forward. She was the first to look away, sticking her hands under the running water and rinsing them. Jon stepped backwards out of the bathroom, but couldn't stop staring at her. Not even when the front door opened and the other women walked in.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Kitty sighed. “There's all these reporters hanging out down there and they recognized us. Mrs. Sloan didn't think it was a good idea to talk to them without your permission, so I figured we should just come back up.”
Jon didn't say anything, just kept staring in the bathroom. Kitty's gaze shifted between him and the small girl in the other room. Mrs. Sloan started chattering away, trying to kill the awkward silence. Meanwhile, Delaney finished washing her hands and she turned towards the group, her perfect smile back in place, her eyes bright and clear.
“Ready to see what Jon looked like with dreads?” she asked Kitty, then she lead the way back into the suite. The other two women followed her happily, laughing at the idea of clean cut Jon Doherty with dreadlocks.
Meanwhile, Jon stayed rooted in place, staring at an empty space where she used to exist.
12
Delaney Marie Carter had been born in the suburbs of Hartford, Connecticut. Her first name was actually her mother's maiden name. She was an only child, born after many years of fertility treatments, and was adored by her parents.
She grew up in a nice neighborhood and went to good schools. She was raised in a caring and loving and encouraging environment. She had been taught to treat others as she wished to be treated. Made to understand that every day was a gift. Always told that somewhere out there, someone had it worse than her, so she should always be thankful.
As a result, she had an exceptionally positive outlook on life. A spirit which was almost impossible to crush. Whenever anything bad happened, she could almost always find a silver lining. Find a way around it or through it, or a way to laugh at it and learn from it.
But even Delaney Carter had her limits.
She looked over the PG-13 pictures with Kitty and Mrs. Sloan. They laughed and gasped and even got a little teary eyed, looking at their friend Jon in his former life. He had been so different, they kept pointing out. A different person entirely.
He really was, too. The entire time she'd known Jayson, she'd probably only seen him clean shaven a handful of times, and never with short hair. Always in loose clothing, second hand threads, and worn shoes. Always bohemian, he fit in wherever they went in Brooklyn.
Jon was the opposite. He had clean cut hair which she had to admit looked good on him. He was a soft brunette, and the sides had been cut short, with the top thick. Just begging to have fingers run through it. And both times she'd seen him, he'd been wearing nice jeans, expensive looking shoes, and polo shirts that stretched across his broad chest. He'd looked right at home in Midtown.
He looked good, she could admit it. Great, even. Healthier than she'd ever seen him. His eyes were bright and alert, his wit sharper than ever. And he seemed to be surrounded by good people – Delaney genuinely liked Mrs. Sloan, and she supposed Kitty was a very nice person. A chipper Upper East Side type of blonde, who fussed and fawned over Jon. Had been there since almost the beginning of his ordeal.
After Del had closed down her laptop, she'd made excuses to leave. Said goodbye to Kitty and hugged Mrs. Sloan. Jon hadn't spoken once since the other women had come back into the room, so Del just smiled comfortingly at him, not wanting to cause him anymore undo stress. Then she'd collected her stuff and left.
She'd been escorted out of the hotel via a back door, to avoid reporters. Jon's story was big news, and both Delaney and Kitty were a part of his story – she'd been getting phone calls from newspapers asking for interviews. She turned them all down.
Once outside, she'd hailed a taxi and had it take her to her apartment in the heart of the Flower District. It was walking distance, but she didn't feel like going out in the rain or getting chased by reporters.
She smiled and said hello to all of her roommates. Renting anywhere in New York was expensive, but so close to Midtown, it was virtually impossible to even live. She'd answered a Craigslist ad for a “spacious, sunny, affordable apartment! Completely furnished, have your own room! Utilities divided.”
Spacious and sunny were being generous, but it was affordable, and technically, she did have her own room. She had her suspicions it was actually a very large broom closet, but she didn't care. She had a bed, she had a small desk, and she'd managed to cram a tall dresser into the space at the end of the room. That's all she needed. She barely saw the other people who lived there – two couples occupied the other two rooms, and occasionally, they rented out their sofa on Airbnb. That was all fine with her. She locked her door when she was gone and she kept her space clean and she paid her rent on time.
She went into her room and put her messenger bag on top of the desk. Then she hung up her jacket to dry – she'd gotten soaked during the short jog from the cab to her building. After that, she took off her boots and carefully placed them at the foot of the bed, so she wouldn't trip over them later. Then she sat down and took a deep breath.
And started to cry.
Why!? Why, god, why, this is almost worse ...
She curled into the fetal position and sobbed. She didn't want to be nice or sunny or positive. She hated Kitty, with her perfect blonde hair and her money. She even wanted to hate Mrs. Sloan, for being the perfect best friend. And most of all she wanted to despise Jay. Jon. God, fuck him. Forever meant for-goddamn-ever, and he'd gone and forgotten.
How was she supposed to live like this? She was still in love, as much as she'd ever been before the accident. Jayson was alive and real and present every single day, deep inside her heart. He was still the second half to her whole. What she was supposed to do if she was only half a person?
When he'd touched her in the bathroom, it had almost broken her. She'd wanted to jump out the window. Make it all end. Demand that he leave the stupid blonde girl. Beg him to just love her, Delaney. Just pretend to love her, please, and maybe ... maybe he'd learn to really love her again.
This is so much worse.
She gagged and wanted to throw up, but she held herself in check. She rolled onto her back and put her hands over her face, trying to breathe while sobs continued ripping through her chest. Jealousy and anger and self-loathing kept crashing over her. A rip tide of hatred, threatening to pull her under and drown her.
I don't want to feel this way anymore.
Bad thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Delaney had been telling the truth, she hadn't used drugs since the accident, but that didn't mean she hadn't wanted to. She never showed it, but there were some dark places in her mind. Since she'd lost him, she'd spent a lot of time in those places. Wishing she could use. Wishing she could escape.
Wishing I could just end it all ... what am I without him?
She dropped her hands and stared at the ceiling. No. She wouldn't think those kind of thoughts, she wasn't that kind of person. She still had her parents, who had been very supportive throughout
everything. She had friends, some old ones, and a lot of new ones, all of whom cared about her.
And she had Jayson back. He may not have been himself. Maybe Jon would never be as close to her as Jay had, but he was alive. That was enough. She would learn to live off that knowledge. That's what love did. It survived.
He was out there breathing and living and happy. God, seeing him happy, it made her heart want to burst. So she focused on that feeling. It would be her new purpose. If she couldn't be the love of his life anymore, she would help him love life. She would make him smile and laugh, she would encourage him and share with him. She would be nice to Kitty, and if it came down to it, she would organize their wedding some day, and then she would babysit their children.
Because that's what real love did – in all things, it strove for the complete and utter happiness of its counterpart.
It wasn't jealousy or anger or malice.
It was happiness.
So she would work on helping Jon find true happiness.
And then, maybe, she could think about what it at all meant for her.
13
Meeting his parents again was by far one of the strangest moments in Jon's short memory, which he felt was really saying something. He didn't recognize them at all. Not one pang of remembrance, not one thrill of recollection.
Sloany had brought them to the hotel and let them into the suite. Jon had looked up from his laptop to find a woman slowly walking towards him. Older, yet still youthful in her face. She was very dark, some kind of Hispanic, with thick, coarse brown hair much like his own, only darker.
Behind her was a ridiculously tall man, taller even than Jon. He was older than the woman, and unlike her, his face showed it. He had blonde hair that was graying, and wore glasses with thin silver rims. He was very trim and tone, with a body type much like Jon's.
“Hello, Jayson,” the woman said in a slow voice. He'd plastered a smile onto his face and stood up.
“Hello, Mother.”
He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he'd been told his parents were flying to meet him. Maybe a similar reaction to the one he'd had with Delaney. That had been like a freight train of emotion hitting him. But there was nothing like that with his parents. He felt like he was sitting in the room with two strangers.
They talked for a long time, with Mrs. Sloan sitting silently with them, watching Jon carefully to make sure he didn't get upset. His parents said a lot of things he didn't like hearing, but they didn't really bother him too much because he didn't remember any of it. It was like they were talking about another person. He apologized for everything Jayson Fairbanks had done to them, but he knew it sounded hollow.
“I know this sounds awful,” his mother started, and she rested her hand on top of his. “But in a way, I'm ... I'm glad you had the accident.”
“Claudia!” his father burst out. Sloany leaned forward, ready to intervene.
“You are?” Jon asked, keeping his voice level, even though he was a little shocked.
“It's like getting our little boy back,” she cried. “You've been lost to us for so long! We haven't spoken in four years, Jayson. Everyday, I kept expecting to get a call that you'd overdosed. Everyday, I waited to hear that you were dead. But now you get a chance to start over! To try again! And you're surrounded by such good people, Katherine is such a good girl. I'm so happy for you.”
Kitty had been there when they'd come in, and then she'd left. She'd of course been the perfect girlfriend, saying all the right words, smiling that smile of hers that he'd loved so much when he'd first met her. And yet he couldn't help asking himself ...
I wonder what they'd think of Delaney.
“She doesn't mean that, Son,” his dad spoke quickly. “We're just happy that maybe we can all start over again. We can all have a chance to be better.”
Jon looked at his father. Realized their eyes were identical. He'd gotten his size and shape and eyes from his father. His coloring and hair and laugh from his mother.
We? We can what? Be a happy family? I don't even know these people.
They showed him pictures of his sisters, two young women aged twenty-two and twenty. They'd even sent a video along, and he laughed as he watched them on his mother's phone. All the Fairbanks kids looked just alike, with their gray-green eyes shining against their tan skin. The girls also seemed to share his sense of humor. There wasn't much crying, a lot of laughing, and they said they hoped to see him soon.
I don't know them, either.
His parents would be in the city for the rest of the week. He made plans to go to dinner with them, and to bring Kitty along. Maybe before they left, he could introduce them to her parents.
More strangers meeting more strangers.
When he shut the door behind them, Sloany let out a big sigh.
“Well, that wasn't awkward at all.”
He turned around to find her slumped back in her chair, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
“You should feel it from my end,” he suggested, walking over and collapsing into the chair next to her. “I feel more comfortable calling you mom than that woman.”
“Watch it,” she snapped, smacking him in the arm. “I really am just ten years older than you.”
“Awfully young to be having kids, Sloany.”
“Shut up. Have you heard from Delaney?”
He glanced over at the social worker. She'd sat upright and was messing about on her cell phone, not looking at him.
“Not today, no,” he replied.
“Yesterday?”
“Why do you ask?” he questioned, going on guard. She shrugged and finally looked at him.
“I like her. I think she's good for you.”
“Don't play matchmaker,” he said quickly. “It's already weird enough as it is.”
She held up her hands.
“Who said anything about matchmaking? It's just that ...”
He knew she was goading him. She wanted to tell him something she knew he didn't want to hear, but she also knew he couldn't resist knowing, so she made him ask for it.
Well not this time, Sloany, HA!
A few seconds passed.
“It's just what?” he demanded with a groan.
“It's like your whole presence changes when she's around, Jon,” she explained, sitting on the edge of her seat. “I can't explain it. I mean, I thought I knew you, but when the two of you are together, it's like I'm finally seeing the real you.”
“Then the real me is awkward as fuck, because she kinda makes my skin crawl.”
What he didn't explain was how Delaney made his skin crawl in such a way that he wanted to climb out of it and into her. Like he belonged inside of her.
“Don't be rude!” Mrs. Sloan snapped. “Do you have any idea what that poor girl has gone through? What she's going through? She comes here, rain or shine, whenever you call. At the drop of a hat. She answers all of your questions, all of my questions, and all of Kitty's. The love of her life doesn't even remember her, and she has to watch him parading around with another woman, and she does it all with a smile. With a smile, Jon. A genuine goddamn smile. So you better treat her with respect, or so help me god, I will put you back in that hospital.”
He was shocked. Sloany rarely spoke so passionately about anything. Even when they'd had their fight, she hadn't gotten so worked up. But she looked seriously mad. Like she wanted to hit him.
“Jesus. You really like her, don't you?” he asked. She glared at him for a second, then turned away.
“Yes, I do,” she replied. He took a deep breath and stared at his lap.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do, too,” he whispered.
“I like her a whole hell of a lot more than Kitty,” she started. He didn't voice his agreement, but they could both feel it. “And honestly, Jon. I like her better for you.”
“Stop it, right now,” he said in a low voice. “We're friends, and I want to stay friends, but this is some personal shit. I don't need anyo
ne else messing with my head right now. You don't know her, Sloany, and neither do I. Neither do any of us. We used to do drugs together. She said we were homeless! How can she possibly be good for me? We almost killed each other. I'd probably be doing us both a favor if I told I never wanted to see her again.”
“If you say that to her, then you'd better be prepared to say it to me.”
He clenched his teeth together and balled his hands into fists. No, he wasn't going to say that to Delaney. He needed her, and not just because she held all his memories. Not just because she was the only link to his past. He needed her because ... because ...
Because for better or for worse, she's the biggest part of you.
*
Almost two weeks after he'd bumped into his past, he and Kitty tried to have sex again. He initiated. He had to do something. Ghosts had taken up residence in his brain, and they were getting worse. Torturing him. He needed her to burn them out of him with her heat and passion.
He could tell she was feeling the tension, too. She was a lot more timid around him than she'd ever been. Very compliant. He was pretty sure if he'd asked her to clean the bathroom floor with her tongue, she would have done it. She'd never been like that before, it was strange.
Because she's afraid of losing you.
They went to dinner and a movie. Buzz about him had died down and the reporters were leaving him alone. There was one persistent journalist from the Times who called all the time, the same one who'd talked to him in the hospital, right after his accident. The man encouraged Jon to write a book, but that was it. So Jon and Kitty were free to roam around again.
When they got back to the hotel, he held her hand during the elevator ride up. He kissed her in the hallway, pushing her against the wall by their door. She moaned and pressed her breasts again him, and he realized for the first time she hadn't worn a bra all evening. Shocking behavior for Kitty.
They stumbled into the room, kicking off their shoes. He pushed her onto the bed, then started undressing them. She was moaning and writhing around under him, but it almost seemed ... orchestrated. He'd barely touched her, and she was acting like she was about to come. Normally a boost to any man's ego, but not for him. Not that night. Not anymore.
Muscle Memory Page 14
