Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series)

by Sabrina Lacey

Greeting me on campus was the usual chaos of young people heading in different directions, all with their own styles, groups, and focus. I walked slowly, seeing a lot of memories replay themselves. Like at the bench where Corinne and I laughed while she told me about Johnny, the guy she nailed in the library who wouldn’t stop following her afterward. We’d looked over and seen him standing behind a building, poking his head out at exactly that moment. We’d cracked up, which made him feel miserable. He stopped following her after that. Which was even funnier.

  I passed by Drama next, thinking of the complete disaster that had been for me back then. My inability to talk to people had made performing pretty much impossible. I thought it might be the opposite because at the time I had a love for all things Tim Burton and felt if he – a man who seemed to be very quiet and introverted, too – could branch out creating films like he did, maybe I could do something like that. It didn’t work out that way. I could barely speak on stage and was often whispered about by girls who looked like I do now. A pang of anger stabs me every time I think of shit like that. I would never do what they did to me. That stuff scars you for life, and fuck them for being like that.

  On purpose, I went to the spot I used to hide in there, pretending to read a book. What I had really been doing was pumping myself up to go inside and join in… but failing every time.

  So I stopped there to take a moment and reframe that memory. I imagined myself just as I was back then, but this time walking in the door and being greeted by friends who wanted me to do a scene with them, who’d thought of the perfect part for me to play. As I imagined this reframed moment, the weight left me and I could see it all as if it had really happened that way. It helped the pit of regret loosen its hold.

  I did this to let go. I’d read somewhere that the past is all in our heads. It’s no longer happening. It’s not real. So if we can reframe it, rewrite it with a better outcome, we can release the bond it has. I was skeptical it would work, but going to the campus that day, I felt better.

  Next I went to that fateful hallway. The one where I thought Brendan said hi to me, but it turned out he really didn’t. I ignored the people walking by in present day, and stood off to the side with my back against a wall. I focused and saw again Brendan at age twenty-two when I was only twenty. Saw how it really happened, how he’d looked my way with recognition in his eyes, how he’d smiled and said it. Hey. I saw the real memory of me lifting my hand, eyes lighting up with surprise as I returned Hey… before Mark passed me, walking up from behind and joining Brendan. How they’d turned without seeing me and walked off together. How I stood staring at them in the crossroads of this hall, feeling like I didn’t exist. I’ll never forget hearing Mark boastfully say, When are you going to get rid of your girlfriend and come out with us. Last night was amazing. It’s why I call him Jerkoff Mark because what kind of idiot hopes to break up a happy couple?

  Standing there watching the ghosts, I felt my heart pull in my chest as if I was back there again. I couldn’t go on living with that feeling. I wasn’t hiding anymore and I no longer wanted to see myself as invisible. No one was going to heal me, but me.

  So I took a deep breath and imagined the scene again, allowing it to shift.

  This time I pictured Brendan stop and say, Hey. I again saw me surprised, lifting up my hand and saying it back. I saw him smile and walk to me this time. What’s your name? I saw me push my long, stringy black hair behind my ear and quietly answer, Annie. I saw him nod, his forehead pushed up and in with thoughts and ideas that were only his. Then I let my imagination paint the rest of the scene, going where my heart guided it.

  You know what Annie?

  No, What?

  I’m sorry I didn’t see you, but we’re going to meet again years from now. In a bar here in the city. You own the place. And we’ll be different then. Right now we’re just kids.

  A bar? Could I own a bar? Where had that idea come from? I focused again.

  Yeah?

  Yeah. So let this one go, okay? I didn’t know any better. And to be fair, you were kind of lurking in the shadows.

  Then I saw him walk and join Mark again, but this time Brendan looked over his shoulder and waved to me. See you then, he said.

  I let them vanish. Reality quickly swarmed back into focus. I stayed there, soaking it in, letting the past fall off me as strangers passed in present day. Did I feel better? I had to admit, I did. But the real surprise was the inspiration that had come out of nowhere.

  I pushed off the wall and walked off the grounds for the last time, daydreaming about it all the way home. Could I own my own bar? I learned a lot from managing the one I worked at in Tuscany. Having my own business certainly goes with my personality. I’m not a fan of authority, and I do think differently than most, so maybe having my own thing is the perfect job for me.

  Then, walking around Mission Street three days later, I came across a For Lease sign in the window of a closed and empty bar. Had I not gone to campus, that sign might never even have registered. I might have just passed by it like I’ve passed by so many other improbable opportunities.

  Thrilled, I practically ran across the street to look inside the window. The red paint and gaudy sign would have to go, but there was huge potential. A nice bar top was already set up. It had a thick layer of dust, but was perfectly serviceable otherwise. There would be no need for costly reconstruction. There were black booths and red walls. I stared at them, picturing the coat of paint I could put in their place.

  How much fun would it be to get my hands dirty on a project of my own? I could do this! My own place!

  Instantly, I knew what I would call it.

  Le Barré - The Bar, in Italian.

  It sounds elegant, but really it’s just a basic everyday word. Kind of like me; I look pretty good, but really I’m just a dork who found out how to use makeup and wear better clothes.

  Le Barré. I loved it!

  Turning tonight, I look around my bar. My reframed memory came true. Even Brendan and I meeting came true. If I’d have known it would have, I’d have added, and then we’ll fall in love. Something to ensure he would have come back tonight.

  With a deep breath in, I call out, “Okay, Manny let’s cover the bottles.”

  “It’s locked?”

  “It’s locked.”

  I just want to go home.

  10

  Brendan

  Pockets: full of frustration in the form of my fists. Head: down. With: Teri. Talking: Nope.

  ________

  “Why are you so quiet tonight, B? Something bothering you at work?”

  I don’t hear her. I’m not really here. I’m seeing Mark waking up in the morning and seeing Teri in the kitchen making pancakes like she does. I’m seeing Mark’s face when he tells me without words that I’m a coward. Am I a coward? Hell no.

  I stop walking. “Teri.”

  She turns, her heel scraping on the sidewalk. Zipping up her dark grey jacket, she asks, “Yeah, B?”

  “You’ve got style, you know that?”

  “Thank you. Uh-oh. I sense something bad coming.”

  “I’ve always been honest with you, right? Told you what’s up.”

  She looks to the other side of the street, smiling sideways, one corner higher. “Oh yeah. You always tell me how it’s going to be.” She adopts a voice that’s supposed to be me. “Don’t get attached Teri. This is as far as this will ever go. But I’ll treat you right. You just can’t ever expect me to be anything you dreamed about when you were a little girl.” Her hands go up with quotation signs and she gets very serious. “And I will be fucking other women.”

  I look off to the distance. “Jesus. You memorized it.”

  “I’ve heard it enough!” She touches my cheek. “Why are you asking? You want to make sure I don’t get my feelings hurt if I don’t see you again for awhile after tonight?”

  “No.” I remove her hand and hold it in both of mine. “It’s because I’m hoping you won’t hate m
e for not taking you back to my place. I have somewhere I need to be. I promised someone something.”

  Her eyes cloud over. “Oh. I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I was trying to avoid it.”

  She backs away a step, pulls back her hand, holding it up. “Wait. Who’s waiting for you at this hour? Please don’t tell me you were about to use me to get over another girl.”

  Hearing it put so directly sounds awful. Thinking fast, I do what I rarely do. I lie. It’ll hurt less and I like her that much. “It’s not that. I have to go help a guy who’s got his heart all busted up. I didn’t want to go. I’d much rather go with you.”

  The frown lines smooth out and she exhales, and looks away again, relieved. “Oh. Sorry. I was just surprised for a second. That’s not something I’ve ever seen you do.”

  “What?”

  “Ditch one woman for another. I mean, I know you’re not the tied-down type, but you usually focus on one of us at a time. It gives a woman a sense that she means something.” She blinks away the vulnerability, tries to cover it up with a smile.

  I hold out my hand, asking her to take it again. She does. “Teri, you do mean something.”

  “I know. I just need you to know it, too.”

  “I do.”

  “I do have self-respect. And I like to fuck you. The two can co-exist.”

  “They sure can.” I laugh and bend to kiss her hand before releasing it. “Another time.”

  “Oh, alright. Enough with the seriousness. Jeez. Go help your friend. I’ll see you later.”

  “Let me call you a cab.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll go back in and have Bobby call me one. I’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

  I watch her walk inside before I turn in the direction of Le Barré. Checking the time on my phone, I discover it’s a sad 2:37 a.m. I hope she’s still there.

  As I get closer, it’s obvious the place is dark. They must have gone home. I fucked up. I care, which is hard for me to understand or believe. I have to see her again. I feel it. I really need to talk to her. What is wrong with me?

  I’ll just go and look inside the window, see if she’s there. If I have to walk home alone after this, I have a feeling I will replay my mistake over and over until my frontal lobe falls right the fuck out. The last two steps until I get to the window are fucking torture. I’m sure when I look in, she’ll be gone. C’mon Annie, still be there.

  11

  Annie

  Lights: dimmed.

  ________

  “You know what, Manny?”

  He pulls off a long piece of plastic wrap. “What?”

  “I’m going to make this place great. You wait and see.”

  He grins. “I know.”

  “Now you can’t use that whole thing. Are you trying to bankrupt me?”

  He laughs and we tear pieces off it, covering the pour spouts of the sweet alcohols to protect them from fruit flies. As we work, I’m trying so hard not to feel disappointed. Why did I leave Italy anyway? You know what? I don’t need this. Brendan Clark can kiss my ass.

  “Annie. Someone’s at the window. You want me to tell him to go away?”

  I spin to look. Peering through the glass, leaning with his hand over his eyes to shield away the reflection, Brendan smiles, giving me the same little wave as when he left. I walk past Manny to get out from the behind the bar. “I can’t believe it.” Then louder, “Um, Manny, you can take off for the night. Thank you.”

  “You sure?” he asks, surprised.

  A smile grows in me so strong it fills my whole body. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” Wiping my hands on my jeans, I pull on the chain hanging from my belt. For the last time tonight the key goes into the lock, but this time lightning quick. “Hey.”

  Looking troubled, Brendan steps forward and leans on the doorframe. “Hey.”

  Manny scoots by, holding his jacket. “See you tomorrow, Boss.”

  With my eyes on Brendan I mutter, “Thanks Manny. Um… You want to come in or would you rather stand there frowning?”

  The cloud dissipates around him in an instant as he chuckles and shakes his head. “I just didn’t think you were going to be here. I’m sorry I’m late.” He leans over to hold open the door, to take the weight off me. “After you, Freckles.”

  “Freckles? I like it. Come on in.” I walk in, motioning for him to join me. I’m so happy, it’s nuts. I’m not even thinking to hide it. Who can think at a time like this? The door closes behind him, holding the world at bay. We’re alone. And there’s no Corinne waiting in bed on the other side of a door. It’s just us this time.

  “He called you Boss. You’re the manager?”

  I spin around, walking backwards to answer, “I’m the owner. This is my bar.”

  He takes it in with a new appreciation. “Really? Wow. Impressive.”

  “Thanks… but I need to get more people in here before anyone gets impressed.” I turn away, but he jogs up and reaches out for my arm. Spinning me back around in the middle of the room, he pulls me toward him so close that I can see black flecks swimming in blue. So that’s why his eyes always seem so dark and tortured.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I whisper back.

  He moves in closer, holding just short of us touching. I wait, the hammering in my chest hopefully not audible. I close my eyes and tilt my head just a little, excitement roaring through me. I can’t breathe. He’s about to kiss me. I can feel it but I can’t believe it. His arms tighten around me. Our lips touch. He presses his onto mine for the very first time, holding there as a shiver floats all the way down to my feet. Stopping there, he pulls away. My eyelashes struggle upward. He smells like heaven, if heaven were made up solely of men.

  “What do we need to do to clean this place up?”

  “Um… well…” I back away to get my head on straight, tucking my hair behind my ear and looking to the floor for my sanity. “Manny already did the bathrooms so you’re lucky. But I need to wipe everything down. Put the chairs up on the tables so the cleaning crew can do the floors in the morning. I guess that’s pretty much it.”

  He smiles. “I can do that.”

  My lips are still zinging. “Great. I’ll get you a towel.”

  He stops just short of walking behind the bar.

  I smile and put one hand on my hip. “You can come back here. You’re an employee now, you know.”

  He laughs. “Great, what do I make?”

  “Me happy.” I toss a damp towel at his face.

  He grins and catches it. “I guess that’s all the payment I’ll need.”

  “Oh, you’re so smooth. You know that? But well played. Now get wiping.”

  He laughs, looking more and more comfortable. Strolling over to the booths, he begins there, bending over. “Like this?”

  I’m already staring at his ass. “Just like that. What kind of music do you like?” I skip over to the iPod, happier than I’ve been since my loan got approved.

  Brendan straightens, deep in thought as he tosses the towel from hand to hand. “Got any classic rock?”

  “Do I have classic rock?!” I push a couple buttons and Janis Joplin begins the slow crooning of her masterpiece, Piece of My Heart. My hips sway and I close my eyes, dancing in place, caught up in it. I love to dance. I spin around and as soon as I realize what I’m doing, I crack my eyes to see if he’s looking at me like I’m nuts. But he’s dancing, too. Humming along as he works his way from booth to booth. He looks happy. It’s something to see. Boogying my way to the register, I pick up the twenties and start counting; twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…

  He calls out over the music, walking to gather dirty napkins off a table in the center of the room. “How was tonight? Get busy after I left?”

  One hundred, One hundred twenty… “Nah. We stayed slow all night. The busiest was when you were here. And stupid me – I loaded up the register hoping we’d need the change, but alas!”

&nbs
p; He brings the trash to a trashcan behind the bar. I look over, watch him toss it in. He winks at me and goes back to wipe. I can’t get over this. I lost my count. Okay. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…

  “What are you doing to get the word out?”

  “Umm… that’s a great question.” That’s all I want to say. Not a fun topic. Where was I? Twenty, forty, sixty…

  “So how about a great answer?”

  Eighty… I glance to him and see that he’s serious. He really wants to know. “You’re not just making conversation are you?”

  12

  Brendan

  Nerves: calm now. Hesitancy: still there. Mind: filling quickly up with marketing ideas.

  ________

  “I’m not just making conversation, no.” I toss the towel and walk over to watch her count, waiting for an answer. She’s in over her head. I know that. She looks younger than me and running her own business without having a game plan is a common error in small business owners. When you start something, you can’t just go in half-cocked with fairy dust in your brain. It doesn’t work like that.

  With twenties in both her hands, she looks at me helplessly. “Well, the truth is, I don’t know how I’m going to get the word out. I’m not great at that stuff. I can run a bar, but this is my first solo show, so…”

  “You’ve never done the promoting,” I finish.

  She sighs and gives a short nod, putting the money back in the register while she thinks. I give the room a once over again and decide it’s got a great vibe in here. It’s not like the other places up the street so this will appeal to it’s own crowd. There’s kind of a Goth feel to it and people like a dark bar, especially for dates. I can see this hitting it big if she just pushed it right.

  She walks toward me, pulling back her hair from her forehead by running her fingers through it while she looks at me. The thought that she’s addictive to look at, settles in me again. I just stare at her, thinking I could help her make this place great. But I don’t even know her. That’s a hell of an assumption, on many counts.