Getting Over You

by Jaxson Kidman

  Or maybe the fact that he came running by again, only I had been with Meadow.

  My brother’s house was perfectly symmetrical. The door in the middle. Windows on the left and right. The second floor with the same number of windows. I swore he bought the house because of that. He was completely anal about that kind of stuff.

  There were even two stone pathways. One on the left. One on the right.

  I walked the one on the right, which led to the small guesthouse that I called home.

  There wasn’t a second of hesitation when they offered to take me in. Kait basically demanded it and Corey wouldn’t let me even have a second to think about getting my own apartment.

  I could hear the sound of Meadow giggling and I sped up to find her.

  She was right there in the backyard with her parents. She stood on top of a dark green slide attached to the swing set. Corey stood with his arms open, telling her to jump.

  “I can’t do it!” Meadow giggled.

  “Yes, you can,” Corey said. “You’re a brave girl. Now jump. Mommy is going to tickle you.”

  “I’ll just go down the slide!” Meadow yelled.

  “Then hurry,” Corey said.

  My dorky brother who used to hide under the bed when I had friends come over was now the ultimate family guy. A beautiful wife. An even more beautiful daughter. An amazing house. An amazing job. An amazing life.

  Corey clapped his hands. “Hurry!”

  Meadow covered her mouth and laughed harder.

  Kait snuck up behind Corey, a finger to her lips, and Meadow kept the secret.

  A smile climbed on my face.

  Corey hated to be tickled at his ribs. My friends and I used to hold him down and tickle him until he pissed his pants.

  As soon as Kait grabbed Corey’s sides, he jumped and screamed.

  Meadow laughed even harder.

  Corey turned and wrapped his arms around Kait and lifted her up. This was a kid who couldn’t carry a bag of potatoes; who got sick of being bullied and started working out a little, then exploded in size and strength but still kept his dorky mind. He spun Kait around and she cried out with laughter, sounding just like Meadow.

  When Corey put Kait down, he hurried to climb up the ladder to get to Meadow. She yelled with laughter and slid down the slide. Then it was Kait and Meadow at the bottom of the slide. Corey pretended to fall and went down the slide headfirst.

  Hearing them all laugh melted my heart.

  A perfect little family.

  And I was sort of the sore thumb, sticking out.

  The shower was much needed, and I found myself sitting on a chair in front of an easel. My urge to paint came and went like the rain. Sometimes I could paint for hours or days. Other times, I could just walk away for days and not care.

  There was a knock at the door and I knew it was my brother because Kait would just walk in.

  When I opened the door, Corey scrunched up his nose. Then in a nasally voice, he asked, “Can Josie come out and play?”

  “You’re an idiot,” I said.

  “Some people like it,” he said. “Just wanted to pass along that dinner will be done soon.”

  “I already ate.”

  “Where?”

  “The restaurant. They made me eat.”

  “Made you eat?”

  “Basically,” I said.

  “You sure you don’t want organic eggplant parm with a side of spaghetti squash?”

  I laughed. “Are you sure you want that?”

  “Happy wife, happy life,” Corey said.

  “You have secret stashes of food around the house, don’t you?” I asked.

  “How dare you suggest I do that to my wife,” he said with a wink.

  “It’s good to see you so happy,” I said. “Not that you weren’t happy or anything. It’s… I don’t know…”

  “Aw, my sister is getting all mushy on me,” he said. “Maybe you’ll wise up and find someone and move out of my guesthouse. This was supposed to be my man cave, you know.”

  “A man cave?” I asked. “There’s nothing man about you.”

  “Oh, I think Kait would disagree.”

  “Okay. Gross.”

  “If you change your mind, there will be leftovers.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

  “A walk, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A walk to your car?”

  “So what?” I asked. “It’s my life.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said.

  “Enjoy your dinner.”

  Corey left, and I ended up skipping the walk to my car so I could paint. My memory was messing with me as I quickly just flicked my wrist, creating the outline of a crappy looking house. With a crappy looking balcony. And a guitar balanced on a chair.

  That’s how I remembered it.

  How I remembered him.

  I finally decided to take that walk and have that cigarette. Sitting in my car, mostly miserable, grasping at something that made me feel okay for a few minutes.

  When I got close to my car, I noticed something under one of the wipers.

  My heart jumped.

  Was it a ticket?

  Did someone report me for parking here?

  I plucked the paper from under the wiper.

  It wasn’t a ticket.

  It was a handwritten note.

  Drink at Zari’s. My treat. Bring your smokes.

  I instantly smiled.

  Then I looked around.

  Did he really run all the way here to put a note on my car?

  Better yet, was this his way of asking me out on a date?

  It was so dumb.

  Yet he had me smiling.

  And there was no way I could say no… unless I just didn’t show.

  So, I could either go back home and deal with organic eggplant and spaghetti squash (whatever the hell that was) or I could have a drink with someone who knew nothing of me other than what was seen and assumed through a window when I was much younger.

  I decided to have a cigarette and think it over.

  It was always weird leaving the guesthouse and walking alongside the main house. Like I was sneaking through the backyard to the front yard to get away. And I always feared someone would come running out on the porch to question me. Which Corey had done a few times, just to be a jerk to me.

  As I walked around to the front of the house, I saw the glow of the TV in the living room. Meadow was fast asleep and Corey and Kait were enjoying some alone and quiet time.

  There were no more notes on my car.

  The drive to Zari’s was only five minutes. Just beyond all the quiet neighborhoods was the main street that connected all the towns. Half a mile up the road was where all the restaurants, bars and little shopping centers were.

  I pulled into the parking lot of Zari’s, not knowing what kind of car or truck the mystery running man drove. I didn’t even know his freaking name.

  Yet it all excited me.

  I opened the heavy black door and was blasted with the sound of rock music from the jukebox. The sound was laced with the conversation at the full bar. A few heads turned to look at me, but that was it. To my right were four high-top tables with four chairs each. One was occupied by three guys eating wings.

  And the last table, tucked away in the corner, had one person sitting there.

  That person turned their head and looked right at me.

  It was him.

  Only now he wasn’t running. He wasn’t sweaty. He wasn’t shirtless.

  And I couldn’t figure out why this stranger made me smile.

  6

  JUST SOME DRINKS…

  NOW

  Crosby

  Eddie owned the bar and his oldest daughter Wendy took the place over a few years ago. I knew her from her days of wanting to be a famous singer. She had a hell of a voice but never really had the urge to get out there and make something happen. Not that I would ever judge her for that. Just
because you could sing didn’t mean you should be famous. Everyone’s path in life and through life was different.

  Wendy brought me a beer and asked if I was on a hot date. I told her I wasn’t sure yet.

  Every time the door opened, I looked back.

  And now finally, she was here.

  It was insanely random, but it was a nice distraction.

  I stood up as she approached.

  Her hair pulled back the same. Her cute eyes and sweet little smile. A gray long-sleeved shirt that hugged her in places I shouldn’t have let my eyes look. Jeans that clung to her hips, making my eyes bounce left to right as she walked. She was too beautiful to be so casual. That was a deadly combination.

  There was no handshake. Or hug. Or even a normal hello.

  She stopped a couple of feet away from me.

  “I know you,” she said.

  “And I know you,” I said right back.

  “You do?” she asked.

  “You’re the girl who painted.”

  “You’re the boy who played guitar,” she said.

  “Crosby,” I said, now offering my hand.

  “Josie,” she said.

  We shook hands.

  Her hand was soft and smooth. Nothing like the beaten up, gritty and callused hand attached to my body. Between the guitar playing and self-inflicted torture of working out, my hands were always rough and messed up.

  But whatever.

  That didn’t matter.

  “This is crazy, right?” she asked.

  “Completely crazy,” I said. “But I have a lot of questions for you, Josie.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Here, take my seat,” I said.

  I walked around to the other side of the table.

  I gave a wave to Wendy and held up two fingers.

  “You okay with a beer?” I asked.

  “That’s fine.”

  “So, you’re the mystery girl.”

  “And you’re the mystery boy,” she threw right back at me.

  “Okay, I’ll cut through the weird tension. You were smoking in your car. Which is apparently the biggest secret in the neighborhood. And then I see you with your daughter. She’s beautiful, by the way.”

  “Let me stop you there,” Josie said. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m wrong?” I asked.

  “Not my daughter,” she said.

  “Ah. Are you a babysitter then?”

  “Why? Don’t think I can afford a house in that neighborhood?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I said.

  “You implied it.”

  “I’m just asking questions,” I said. “Getting to know you a little better.”

  “My turn,” Josie said. “Why’d you stop running that day?”

  “Saw a pretty girl sitting in a car…”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “That’s so cheap.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Try again, Crosby,” she said.

  Wendy stopped at the table and put down two beers. “Anything else?”

  “I think we’re okay,” I said.

  “If he bothers you, let me know,” Wendy said. “I’ll have him tossed out.”

  “You might want to be on standby then,” Josie said, staring at me, one eyebrow raised.

  I smiled.

  Wendy walked away.

  “Why did you stop running that day?” she asked me again.

  “You caught my attention,” I said. “That’s the truth. You were smoking in your car. It was interesting to me. And seeing you smoking made me want one.”

  “While on a run?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Yes,” I said. “So why were you smoking in your car?”

  “Taking a break from life,” she said. “So, you’re a runner who smokes.”

  “Does that shock you?”

  Josie took a sip of her beer, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “So, I have a question for you,” I said. “About the past.”

  “Great,” she said.

  “You were right next door, Josie. But you were never in school. And then you were gone.”

  “That’s exactly what happened,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  I growled under my breath. “Okay then. I didn’t come here to play games. Either you want to talk to me or you don’t.” I stood up and took money out of my pocket. “I run a lot. I have my reasons. I was running down the street and from the corner of my eye I spot you sitting in a car, smoking. Truthfully, you don’t fit in with that neighborhood, so it was intriguing. If that offends you, I’m sorry. But I can’t imagine why, if you had a house, you would sit in your car and smoke. Then I saw you with that young girl and, if guided, you were just some mom who hid her habit. I recognized you as the girl next door. So, I thought I’d see if you wanted to get a drink and catch up. You obviously don’t, Josie.”

  I grabbed my beer and walked to the door.

  Outside, it was much quieter.

  Wendy knew I’d never steal a glass from the bar. I’d finish my drink, put the glass on one of the unused outside tables, and then go home.

  I wasn’t sure what I was thinking by having Josie show up.

  Whatever she had going on in her life, it was messy.

  Short answers. Not willing to answer other questions.

  Whatever.

  I lit a smoke and walked down to the front of the bar.

  “You’re right about everything you said.”

  I turned my head and Josie stood there.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Everything you said. You’re right.”

  “Good for me then,” I said.

  Josie walked toward me. “I don’t live in that neighborhood. Well, I do, but I don’t own a house there. I live in the guesthouse behind my brother’s house. And that young girl is my niece. And me smoking in my car is because smoking will make your lungs turn black and you’ll get sick. And the last thing I want, is to leave an impression on my niece and have her make the same mistakes I did.”

  I slowly nodded. “Okay. That explains a lot. But not everything.”

  Josie reached for the cigarette I was smoking and took it from me in a cool and sexy fashion. She put it to her lips, taking a drag. In some odd way, it made me think as though we had just kissed.

  She exhaled a breath of smoke. “And for the record… my entire life is a disaster.”

  Maybe that was her way of trying to get me to run off.

  All it did was make her even more sexy.

  The metal chairs cried loudly as they scratched the concrete patio.

  There were no lights on.

  We weren’t supposed to be sitting there.

  But I didn’t give a shit.

  “So that was your aunt’s place?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “That’s why I was there and gone so fast.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just decided one day to visit your aunt and stay for a few months?”

  Josie sat back in her chair. “There were some problems at home.”

  “Problems, huh?”

  “I wasn’t the good kid.”

  “Your brother was?”

  “Still is,” she said. “He’s got a beautiful wife, beautiful daughter, a good job, and a big house.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I’m happy for him. It’s not his fault our parents were a little crazy.”

  “Ah, so this is about your parents then.”

  “Maybe I should stop and ask about your parents,” Josie teased.

  I put my elbows to the metal table. “I’ve got nothing to hide. My father took off and left my mother to raise myself and my sister Cindi. Mom worked a lot and was never home, so I sometimes had to deal with Cindi.”

  “Damn,” Josie said. “I thought you’d put up a li
ttle fight there.”

  “For what? You saw where I lived. You could assume what you wanted about me.”

  “You could do the same about me.”

  “Except you left,” I said. “Which makes me wonder what actually happened?”

  “My Aunt Sarah was the crazy one in the family,” Josie said. “She didn’t believe in money. She didn’t believe in material things. But she was the only one who actually cared about my art. So, when I had some problems at home, I went to live with her.”

  “You keep saying problems…”

  “I liked to drink a little,” she said. “And I smoked weed a few times.”

  “You’re a terrible human,” I said. “No wonder they disowned you.”

  She laughed. “You don’t care about what you say, do you?”

  “Why would I?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m not out to impress you, Josie.”

  “Then why are you out with me?”

  “To be fair, you came out to see me. I was already here.”

  “You left a note for me.”

  “You could have said no.”

  “Who says I wasn’t coming here to say no…”

  “Hmm,” I said. “Good point.”

  “You’re not all full of charm, Crosby. I mean, you stood a better chance when you were shirtless and sweating.”

  I quickly stood up and grabbed the bottom of my shirt. “If you say so…”

  Josie laughed hard. “You’re crazy.”

  “What?” I asked, staring down at her.

  She shook her head. She smiled.

  She had a really pretty smile.

  “My parents said if I wanted to live with my aunt, I could. So, I did. I took a few months off school and did the homeschool thing. And I painted a lot. Which was how I met you. Or, well, saw you.”

  “And then you decided to go back home?”

  “More like was forced to go back home,” she said.

  “Do you still paint?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Do you still play guitar?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “So that brings us up to date,” Josie said. She stood up. “Now what?”

  “I haven’t really thought that far out,” I said.

  “That’s too bad, Crosby,” she said. “We could have had a fun night tonight. Oh well.”