Way Off Plan

by Alexa Land

  He seemed a bit thrown off by the question. “I just…you know….” And then he admitted, “Yeah. You always liked me in this shirt.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, then set the paper in my lap. “Now why the fuck would you intentionally dress in something I like?”

  He fidgeted, twisting his linked fingers together, then said, “I guess…I guess I wanted you to remember that you used to find me attractive.” He glanced up at me from under his dark lashes, and when I didn’t say anything, he blurted. “Jamie, I’m so sorry. God I’m sorry. I fucked up so bad. I’m the worst kind of asshole. I wish…I wish you’d just punch me in the face or something, because I so totally deserve it.”

  I grinned a little at that. In some ways, Charlie still had the mentality of a high school football player. “While that probably would make me feel slightly better, I don’t think I’m going to risk the assault charges. Or risk getting banned from my favorite Laundromat,” I said, setting the paper aside and folding my hands in my lap. “Aside from trying to get me to punch you in the face, why are you here, Charlie?”

  “I needed to talk to you. I needed to apologize.” He slid forward and scooped up my hands in his, and said, “I need to tell you that I love you, Jamie. I always have. And for me to deny that– ” he pressed his eyes shut for a moment, then said, “I’m such a total idiot.”

  I felt like the roof had just caved in, it was that overwhelming. I carefully extracted my hands from his, and took a deep breath before saying quietly, “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I just got it. I finally realized all that I lost when I gave you up. I finally got that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. You know that expression, you don’t know what you got until it’s gone? That’s totally true. I fucked up, big time. But I want to fix it. I want you back, Jamie.”

  “You’re quoting 1980’s hair band ‘Cinderella’ there, Charlie. You know that, right?” I said, attempting levity, folding my arms over my chest so I could tuck my shaking hands out of sight.

  He sighed in exasperation and sat back. “You’re making jokes, and I’m pouring my heart out to you.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say? You’re right. You did make the biggest mistake of your life. So, great, you finally understand the blindingly obvious.”

  Charlie watched me for a long moment, and then he said quietly, “Do you love him? That gorgeous guy I met at your apartment?”

  “Yes. Absolutely, and with all my heart.”

  “So you’re over me? Just like that, after eight years together? Eight years when you said you loved me?” There was pain in his voice.

  “I had to get over you, Charlie. You dumped me, remember? And then you got engaged. Remember that part? Remember Callie? You moved on, and I did, too.”

  “But I thought – ”

  “What? That I’d still be waiting for you after you finally figured all this shit out? I already waited eight years, Charlie. Eight fucking years! You had every opportunity to build a life with me, and you chose not to.”

  He studied the worn-out linoleum. And then he said, “I guess I did think you’d wait for me. I know that’s stupid, and arrogant. It’s just…it’s just that your love was such a constant in my life, Jamie. No matter how messed up I was, or how confused, no matter what I did wrong, you just went right on loving me. I took it for granted. I took you for granted. I guess some part of me believed that you’d always be there. That even after I got married, you’d still…you’d still be mine.” His voice had grown very quiet.

  “Seriously?”

  Charlie looked up at me. “Some part of me went on thinking that, right up until I met your new boyfriend. When I saw the two of you together – I’ve never felt so jealous in all my life, Jamie. I wanted to yell at him to get the fuck away from my man, and then I wanted to beat the shit out of him for touching you.”

  “That’s completely messed up,” I told him. “You left me and I moved on. You don’t get to play the jealous boyfriend now – especially after all those years of trying to deny that we even were boyfriends.”

  “I’ve always…I’ve had a really hard time accepting that I’m gay,” he said softly. I was totally shocked. That was the first time Charlie Connolly had ever admitted out loud that he was gay. “I used my family and my religion as an excuse, but the truth is, I was the one that had a hard time accepting myself.” Then he said, “I heard you came out to your family after we broke up, by the way. And I was so proud of you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because it showed me what I’ve always known: you’re so strong, Jamie. It was always you, not me, that was the strong one, the brave one. You’re proving that big time now, coming out to your family, having an openly gay relationship. I heard you even came out at work. That must have been hard as hell in that kind of environment, but you did it. And here I am,” he said, running a hand over his mouth and again looking at the floor, “engaged to a woman I can’t love, not the way she needs me to. And, God, do you know what else I’m doing?” He looked up at me. “I went to work for my uncle’s exterminator business. How pathetic is that? Right now, I’m supposed to be at some lady’s condo, giving her an estimate on fumigating for a fucking flea infestation.”

  I leaned forward and rested my hand on his forearm. “Charlie, this doesn’t have to be your life. You can fix it. Step one is to stop trying to please your parents, because you know what? Nothing you do is going to please them anyway. Sorry, but that’s the truth. They’re really bitter, unhappy people, and no matter what you do, they’ll always find fault with it.”

  “I want to fix my life. I do. That’s why I’m here, to beg you to give me another chance, Jamie. Please? I’ll do so much better, I swear. I love you. And I need you so fucking much.” He took hold of my hands again, gripping them as he intently held my gaze.

  Tears prickled behind my eyes, but I held them back. “It’s too late for you and me, Charlie,” I said gently. “But it’s not too late for you to get your life on track.”

  He turned his face away from me as tears spilled down his cheeks. He was quiet for a while before whispering, “I’ve made such a mess of everything. I don’t know what to do.”

  “For one thing, Charlie, end the engagement. You’re being unfair to Callie. She needs a man that loves her, for real, with all his heart. She’s a good person, and deserves that.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And why the fuck would you go to work for Uncle Al? The man’s a total douche bag, you and I both know that. Call him right now and quit.”

  “And do what?” he asked, turning toward me again.

  “Anything. Bag groceries. Wash cars. Who cares, as long as you get the hell away from Uncle Al and the goddamn flea infestations. I can’t actually imagine a worse job for you.”

  He let out a choked little laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is. It is so fucking easy. Just as soon as you stop giving a shit what your family thinks, all the rest is a piece of cake.”

  “Do you know the shit I’ve had to deal with for that job? This one house I had to go to was totally overrun with mice. Mice!”

  “You’re terrified of mice,” I reminded him.

  “I know. And you’re the only person that knows that. You know me better than anyone, Jamie. You’ve been my best friend since Sophomore year in high school. And God I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” I admitted. “I miss our friendship.”

  He looked at me hopefully. “Do you think we can be friends again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can learn to accept the fact that you’re with someone else now. It may take me, like, five or six years, but eventually I’ll come to grips with it,” Charlie joked, though his eyes reflected his sadness. “I just want you in my life, Jamie. I miss talking to you, spending time with you. If you don’t want to be my boyfriend, then ok. But please, can we try to be friends?”

  “Do you reall
y think we can do that? Be just friends, given our history? I mean, the fact that we’re holding hands right now doesn’t bode well, does it?”

  He squeezed my hands and said, “You and Jess hold hands all the time.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Charlie – Jess and I were never in love.”

  He let go of me and sat back as he said, “Ok. I can learn not to touch you. Eventually the urge to kiss you might even wear off.” He smiled sadly.

  “See what I mean? How’s this supposed to work?”

  “I have no idea. But I really want us to be friends, Jamie. You’re so incredibly important to me. And God, let’s face it, my life is a total fucking disaster without you in it.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” I said, grinning a little.

  We sat there for a minute as I chewed my lower lip. And then Charlie glanced over his shoulder and said, “Your laundry’s done. I’ll help you switch it over.”

  We both got up and shifted the wet clothes and linens to the wall of dryers, and Charlie commented, “You let your laundry go too long. You got all the way down to your Spongebob pajamas,” as he tossed them in a dryer.

  He knew me so well. Better than almost anyone, except for Jess. He’d been incredibly important to me for, God, almost a third of my life. And truthfully, I loved Charlie. Though it was perfectly clear to me that I wasn’t in love with him anymore.

  I went down the line feeding quarters into the dryers, and when I got to the end I turned and looked at him. He was leaning against a washing machine, watching me closely. And I said, “This is going to be kind of weird and awkward at first, for both of us. But I’m willing to give the friendship thing a try.”

  “Awesome. Are hugs allowed, now that we’re friends?”

  “Um…I don’t know. Maybe?”

  Charlie crossed the room to me and pulled me into a big hug. And he asked, “Are you happy, Jamie? Does that guy make you happy?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  He let go of me and nodded. “Well, good. Then your life is right where it should be. Now all we have to do is get mine on track and we’ll both be golden.”

  I smiled at him, and we fidgeted awkwardly for a couple moments. And he said, “Ok, so I’m gonna go, before I do something to screw this up. Let’s have a drink next week, ok?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I text you between now and then?” Charlie asked. “To, you know, get some career advice? Or like, just say hi?”

  “I’d like that.”

  He smiled at me, and it was just a little wistful. “Ok then. See you soon.” And he turned and left the Laundromat.

  I watched him go. And after he was gone, I kept staring out at the street for a while.

  Charlie had been my world for such a long time, and right up until today, a few tendrils of loss and regret had remained tied to my heart. But they were cut loose now. It was over. It was truly, totally over.

  So this was what closure felt like.

  I brushed away a few tears – not of sadness, but of the strong emotions that accompany the end of a major life chapter. And then I took my cell phone from my pocket and texted Jess: Spotted at Laundry City: C and J, striking a tentative peace agreement.

  She texted back: I’d almost think that was a Gossip Girl reference, except those bitches don’t do laundry.

  I smiled at that and wrote: How’s work? Is Catherine still there?

  Yes she’s here, and buying half the store. Pity I don’t work on commission. So you and Charlie are making nice?

  We’re going to try being friends. It’s going to be weird. But I want to give it a shot.

  Jess wrote: He tried to get you back, didn’t he?

  Yes. How did you know that?

  It’s typical. Men always want what they can’t have. Ok, women, too. You have to tell me the whole story next time I see you.

  And I texted: But of course. I’ll let ya get back to Catherine. Try to steer her away from the hooker section. X-O, X-O.

  Ok, now I KNOW you’re referencing Gossip Girl. Ya big freak. Love ya.

  I was smiling as I slid my phone in my pocket and went to get another Danish.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A few hours later, someone knocked on the door of my apartment, waking me from a nap (such was my level of productivity when not working). I was a bit groggy and disheveled when I swung the door open and said, “Hi. Can I help you?”

  The tall, distinguished looking stranger standing outside my apartment was maybe sixty, with salt-and-pepper hair, a charcoal grey suit and a white shirt that was open at the collar. He smiled amiably even as he did a thorough assessment of me, taking in my bare feet, rumpled cargo shorts and t-shirt, and hair that was probably sticking up at every angle. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked.

  “That’s fine. You must have the wrong apartment, though.”

  “I don’t think so. Are you James Nolan?”

  “Jamie. Yeah.”

  He smiled again and extended his hand. “Jamie, I’m Gregor Sokolov.” I shook his hand automatically, all my senses instantly going into high alert. “May I please come in?”

  I weighed the pros and cons of that for a moment, then said, “Would you consider it rude of me to do a pat-down before I let you into my apartment?”

  He chuckled at that and said as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, “You’ve heard of me, then.” He reached into a shoulder holster and pulled out a 9 millimeter Beretta, and handed it to me handle-first. “Now can I come in?”

  I did a quick check of the gun in my hand (it was loaded, of course). “I don’t suppose you have a permit to carry concealed?” I tucked the gun into the back waistband of my shorts.

  “As a matter of fact I do, Officer Nolan. Would you like to see it?” He looked amused.

  I stepped back to let him in. “That won’t be necessary.”

  He went into my living room and made himself comfortable on the couch, and I sat on a chair opposite him. Sokolov seemed to miss nothing as his eyes slid over my apartment. When his gaze returned to me a few seconds later I felt like he knew everything about me now. That was how shrewd this man appeared. “So Mr. Sokolov, what can I do for you?” I asked him, crossing my left ankle over my right knee and leaning back in a move of intentional casualness.

  “I simply wanted to meet the man that has my nephew so smitten.” He waited for me to say something – maybe confirming or denying my relationship with Dmitri? I remained silent, holding his gaze steadily. “You’re very careful,” he said, reading me like a book. “Trying to give nothing away. You’re obviously a good cop, Officer Nolan.” I maintained eye contact wordlessly, and after a moment he continued, “I know you and my nephew are seeing each other. I know you’ve been together every night since you met at his club last Friday. So I was curious about you. I wanted to get a sense of you. Determine exactly what I’m up against.” He smiled pleasantly, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to me.

  “So, now you’ve met me. Will be there be anything else, Mr. Sokolov?” I kept my voice and my expression neutral.

  He watched me for a long moment, then said levelly, “You’re obviously a nice kid from a nice family, Jamie. Your dad, a decorated police officer, your mom, a volunteer in the pediatric unit at the hospital – they’re good people. And your sisters, Carol, Erin, and little Maureen – getting married in just a few months – they’re good people, too.” He paused for a moment, then said, “You shouldn’t be mixed up with the type of individuals my nephew associates with, Jamie. Not a boy with your background, with your family. It’s just not safe for you. You and my nephew, you don’t fit. It’s like flint and tinder. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  My blood was running cold in my veins. It took everything I had to keep my game face on as Gregor Sokolov explained to me in no uncertain terms that he knew all about my family, and knew right where to find them. As threats went, it was supremely subtle. But supremely e
ffective.

  I wanted to tell him to shove his threats up his ass, wanted to let him know I was onto his game. But that would only piss off a man like this. So instead I called upon all my training and years on the force and said calmly, “Thank you for your opinion, Mr. Sokolov.”

  The fact that he was getting nothing from me obviously irked him. He kept his expression neutral, but there was one tell: a tightening of the right side of his jaw as he almost imperceptibly ground his teeth together. Often far more useful than my police training was the fact that I’d been playing poker with my cousins since I was twelve, and knew how to read faces.