Win for Love

by Isabelle Peterson

  Stop being the old Crystal! I scold myself. The old Crystal doubts everything. Clearly, I’m not her anymore. I’m Talia now. Confident. Independent. A winner.

  I slip out of bed, my brain needing coffee. I grab David’s Notre Dame t-shirt, and I meander into the main part of his apartment and make a beeline for the kitchen. David pulled forward his single cup coffee maker with a laminated instruction card. He’s also set out a mug, the sugar, and a note telling me there’s creamer in the fridge.

  I make myself a cup and make my way into the living room and continue onto the balcony. I sip the coffee and feel more human and turn and take in the impressive view of the city to the right and the lake in front of me. It’s beyond sunrise, but I can only imagine it’s amazing. There are already several boats out, and I wonder what that must be like—to be out on the lake in such a quiet and peaceful way.

  I head back to the bedroom to use the bathroom and after look around his bedroom. It’s a simple space, not many knickknacks or mementos around. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I peek in his bureau drawers and see things neatly stacked. I smile that he’s so orderly. I wander into his closet and am surrounded by the essence of David. His fine suits. Button-down shirts crisply starched and of every color—white, blue, plaids, and even pink. His jeans and t-shirts are also hanging in an orderly fashion. There’s a hint of the scent that is just him as well as his cologne. I close my eyes and inhale deeply and can practically feel him around me.

  Back in the bedroom, I spot a door I hadn’t noticed earlier and decide to take a peek. I’m almost fearful of what I’ll find. I recall a book Heather urged me to read, the only book she’s ever read willingly, where this guy had a secret room of sex apparatuses and so on. I’m pleasantly surprised it’s just a home gym set up instead with a treadmill, free weights, and many things I can’t name, all of it with an impressive view of the city. I sit on one of the workout benches and picture David working out in here, sweaty and muscles bulging. I grin to myself that David sat here, and now here I am, without panties. I consider ways this equipment might be used in a sexual way. Maybe I'll tell David these thoughts when he gets back.

  Snapping out of my sexual haze, I exit David's workout room and head back to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. Deciding to keep exploring and figure out a little more of this mysterious man, looking around his living room I notice two doors near the front door. One looked like a front hall closet, and sure enough, inside I find raincoats, trench coats, and winter coats. So many for just one person that I almost laugh.

  The other door, a bit further from the front door than the closet, has a more secure look. I almost expect to find the door locked, but it is not. A quick glance shows the room to be a home office. I walk to the big desk, and I have a quick flash of naughtiness in my mind imagining slinking in here while David is working away, him clearing the desk with the sweep of a hand, and having his way with me on the surface—you know, like the movies—because that’s exactly how my life feels right now.

  But once I’m at his desk, I spot two pictures in frames. One with his parents while David is wearing a cap and gown. I wonder which graduation this is—high school, although he looks older than eighteen, Notre Dame or Stanford? Then I look at the other picture. David is young here with another young girl. I put down my coffee cup and pick up the frame, and my hunch is confirmed that the girl is his sister when I read the engraved frame—Brother and Sister Forever and at the bottom, David & Darlene. 2001. Sadly, she even looked sick in this photo. I know David said she had been doing well, but here she’s in a wheelchair and has a breathing tube up her nose. But that doesn’t seem to bother the two. They look sublimely happy.

  Still looking at the photo of the twins, I wish I were closer to Jude, but he would have to be more like me. I could never run in the circles he runs in. I could never do the drugs or the joyriding in stolen cars.

  I put the picture back and turn to see the wall of books. Most appear to be college texts and books about business, but several in a row catch my eye. Harry Potter books. I pull out the first one, fondly remember reading it for the first time. Everyone called me a super nerd because it was so thick, but the story inside felt so important. In many ways, I felt like Hermione. I open the front cover and am shocked when I see it signed to David by JK Rowling herself! Carefully, I close the book and slide it back into place.

  Feeling like I’m in a ‘way too personal’ space, I decide to leave. I don't know what I was expected to find, but now I feel like an untrustworthy snoop.

  I go back to the bedroom, get dressed, brush my teeth, and head home. I’ve way overstepped.

  22

  Disco?

  CRYSTAL

  It’s late in the afternoon, and I’m walking toward my apartment carrying several bags from shopping. I needed to buy a few more things if I’m going to be with the likes of David Redding. I know that I’m still within budget, however, I can’t help feeling guilty for spending so much. My wardrobe was practical, not trendy. Lainey started out the shopping day with me, but she had to go and meet the caterer who was going to be providing food and drinks at her show.

  She tried to convince me to buy a pair of tight-fitting jeans that had shreds and holes all over. I didn’t feel comfortable at all wearing those. Most of the jeans I had growing up had holes in them, but that was from wear and tear, only more easily worn and torn because they were already and hand-me-downs, not bought that way. I’m excited to wear the clothes we finally chose.

  Turning onto a side street, I’m fairly distracted running through potential ‘scripts’ in my head about what and how to tell David about the real me. I need to tell him my actual name at the very least. Maybe even my lottery status.

  As I’m passing a section of road construction, I’m startled when I hear one guy shout to another.

  “Hey, Disco! Pay attention, man!”

  “Yeah, sorry man, I just thought I saw… Never mind.”

  I stop in my tracks, frozen from the inside out, the chill in my belly radiating through every inch of my body. My blood thunders in my ears as that voice echoes around in my head. Nothing else exists. That nickname, Disco…? And the voice that answered back…? Combined could only belong to one person. Morbid curiosity has me slowly turn, and I see the owner of said voice.

  Without a doubt, it’s Leo. He’s got on a hard hat and orange construction vest and has a layer of dirt covering his face and arms. He’s still good-looking, more mature and more handsome now, but I notice he looks tired. I guess working road construction will do that to you. I watch, stunned into place, as Leo and this other guy pound at a pothole they are repairing. I hadn’t given Leo two thoughts over the past years. Well, not much once I got over the rage of his asshat move of leaving me high and dry at the motel. I’m suddenly transported back in time where his abandonment feels fresh all over again. The shame. The anger. The helplessness.

  Leo and his co-worker finish the task, and Leo looks back up to exactly where I’m standing. He seems as stunned as I am.

  “Gator. Gimme five,” he says over his shoulder.

  “Huh?” his co-worker says until his eyes flick to me, and a smug smile crosses his face. “Yeah, go for it, man!”

  “Fuck off,” he grits out in ‘Gator’s’ direction, striding toward me as he takes off his hard hat. His once thick, longish brown hair isn’t so thick or long anymore, now clipped into a short style, although at the moment it’s matted with sweat.

  “I can’t believe it,” he says, the bravado that he always spoke with is noticeably absent. When he’s only a couple of feet in front of me, he stops. I notice he's taller than I remember, or maybe he's actually grown, or maybe it's the work boots, but he practically towers over me now. “Wow. Crystal Jameson. As I live and breathe.”

  “Leo. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” he asks incredulously. “Working. What are you doing here? Well, I guess that’s obvious,” he says, his eyes flicking
down to the bags dangling off my arms. “Your mom up here with ya? Taking a girls’ weekend?”

  “Huh?” I ask, completely thrown. Why is he acting so casually? He left me stranded. Took all our money. My stuff. Once his question has registered, I form a response. “Uh, no. Mom is still back in Harton. Is this… Is this where you came when you left me? Why did you leave?” I blurted, my eighteen-year-old self magically back in my body.

  “Me? I didn’t leave. You left me.”

  What? Here I am feeling like Alice all over again. Anger bubbles up, and I lay into him. “No,” I insist. “I got back from my shift at the diner, and you were gone. With all our money. With all our stuff. I sat there for hours. The motel clerk told me that you closed the account, and I didn’t have any money except for my tips from lunch. I didn’t have any choice, so I went back to the bus station and went home. You didn’t even leave a note! You just stole my money, and everything I had, and left. Do you have any idea how devastated I was?”

  “What are you talking about? You went to work a double shift, and I went to the lumber yard. I got the job and was so excited. And Jake, the foreman, told me about this apartment complex that was near the yard, and that he could write me a letter of reference stating that I’d gotten the job, so I then went there to find out about renting a place. Jake even gave me a lift. The manager of the place had only one apartment available. I needed to put the first and last month’s rent down, plus a security deposit, and because I didn’t have a work history, even with Jake’s letter, the manager would only take cash. The guy gave me one hour to firm up the deal. I drove back to the hotel, I grabbed the cash and our stuff, checked out of the motel, so we didn’t have to spend another forty bucks on the room, and raced back to secure the place. Then I went to Walmart, bought a blow-up mattress, some sheets and stuff, a futon, and a coffee table. Didn’t spend too much, either. Even bought you a coffee maker and mug.”

  I’m about to faint. This is all too much. Leo had gotten the job at the lumber yard? He even rented us an apartment? Moved us in all proper and everything. And I up and left. I assumed he’d left me high and dry. That he bailed.

  “I called you. Over and over. Why didn’t you call me back?” I ask.

  “Shit. The phone. I lost it… somewhere. I don’t know where. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I tried calling your house the next day from Jake’s phone and a couple times after that. You were always working or sleeping. I talked to your mom a couple of times and once with Jude. They both said never to call you again, that you were done with me. Your mom said you were ashamed of running away.”

  “No!” I protest, my voice so strangled with mixed emotions. The anger and betrayal I’d placed on Leo was all misplaced. “Wait, what? You called? I never knew that. No one ever told me.” My gut is in knots, and I can barely breathe. I’m furious with my mother and Jude. How could they? “I really thought you left me. And that day I said I was going to try to pick up a second shift. I was only scheduled for lunch that day and was going to try to pick up the dinner shift, but I wasn’t able to. I got back to the room around four and waited until almost nine o’clock.”

  He has the courtesy to look sheepish now. “Fuck!” he mutters under his breath. “Jake asked if I wanted to grab a beer with the guys, get to know the team. After I got us all moved into the apartment, I went over to join them. I was so excited about everything, and I really thought you were working a double, so I figured it wouldn’t be any big deal. I got back to the motel around nine-thirty and waited until after midnight. You never came back. I thought you got cold feet and went back home.”

  We stand there in silence staring at one another not knowing what to say. We’d both made assumptions about the other and look what it cost us. We could have been happy. Couldn’t we have?

  “Well, you look good. How is your mom?”

  “She’s Sheryl,” I shrug, not wanting to go into the past several years of her benders. Besides, I’m still reeling at what I did to us. “God, Leo. I’m so sorry. I…” I can’t say anything right now. All I feel is shame. Everything goes blurry as my eyes well with the pain in my heart and the sick feeling in my gut.

  “Hey,” he says, in a hush. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You're right. I should have left you a note.” He reaches for my shoulders, then looking at his dirty hands, drops his hands, and he squats a little so now he's looking up at me. “Crystal, don’t… I wanted to come up to Harton and get you, but with my new job… I didn't want to risk losing it. It was a really good job. And when Jude said you had changed your mind about leaving, I—well, I believed him.”

  Tears build and sting my eyes. It is my fault. All of it. I remember when I got home and Jude asked where I'd been, to save face that Leo had left me I told him I'd left but changed my mind and came back. It's nice that Leo is accepting some of the miscommunication, but…

  I focus on his hands as they rest on his thighs while he’s bending over to look at me. His left hand grabs my attention as I spot a gold band on his ring finger. Leo is married? I wipe at the tears threatening to spill.

  “Don’t go crying’. It’s all okay,” he assures me. “You look good. I’m good. It’s all good. What are you doing here in Chicago?”

  “I moved here a few weeks ago,” I mutter. “I see you’re married.” I nod at his left hand.

  He smiles a huge smile. “Teresa. Yeah. Four years.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out his wallet, flips it open, and pulls out a laminated picture. His wife, with mahogany skin and ebony hair is beautiful, Latin American for sure. And two girls, the older one with the same beautiful dark skin, and a younger girl with noticeably lighter skin. “Marisol is almost three,” he says pointing to the younger of the two, “and Francisca is eight.” Leo says proudly, saying their names with an accent. “Cisca was from Teresa’s first marriage. Her husband, Antonio, lost his life in Afghanistan when Cisca was two years old. I formally adopted her just before Mari was born.” He glances at me cautiously to gauge my reaction to the current history.

  “Well, they’re both beautiful. And I’m so proud of you.” I tell him honestly. Wow. Leo is a husband and a dad. I’m truly impressed with him that he has adopted another man’s baby and is truly being her father.

  He looks at the picture and clenches jaw, his eyes welling with tears. He sniffles and wipes at the waterworks threatening to break free with the back of his hand, and says, “Thanks,” then puts the picture back into the slip, flips the wallet closed, and stuffs it back into his pocket.

  “What?” I implore.

  “Nah. Nothin’,” he says, waving me off.

  “Leo. Tell me.”

  “It’s Cisca. She’s sick, which is why I left the lumber yard. We moved up this way for the children’s hospital in February.”

  I’m suddenly just as sad and scared as Leo looks, but try to be positive. “I’m so sorry, but that’s good, though, right? The Children’s Hospital, I mean. She’s getting the treatment she needs,” I suggest.

  “No, you’re right. That’s the great part, and she’s got really awesome doctors.”

  “But…”

  “But I barely see my family. I’m working so hard lately. Two jobs. Here in the day, and I got a job as security guard doing the night shift at a place on Michigan. The insurance is better with this job, too, but the cost of living up this way is brutal. I pick up overtime shifts at either place when I can which only limits the time I get to spend with my girls. And it seems that every day a new bill comes in the mail. Teresa is a trooper, though. Managing both the girls, Cisca’s appointments and keeping Mari happy, too. I’m really blessed. I need to stop complaining.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, my heart breaking for a man I realize I still care deeply for but now in an entirely different way. “What does she have? Cisca, I mean.”

  “Systematic juvenile idiopathic arthritis.”

  “Arthritis? But you said she’s only eight?” I squeak, the image of her cherub-like fa
ce still in my mind. “How can she have arthritis? Isn’t that for old people?” Old Man Gannon who lives next door to the Schwarzkopfs comes to mind. He has horrible arthritis. He's confined to a wheelchair, and his hands are so gnarled he can't even open his own door. He has nursing care all day long. “How is Marisol? Is she okay?”

  He nods and forces a small smile. “It’s not like adult arthritis but still painful and difficult to manage. And Mari…” Leo grins. “She’s great. So smart and is so good about helping to take care of her big sister. So far, she’s in perfect health.”

  “Disco. Five is over, man. Get the girl’s number already and get back here. Boss is gonna be pissed if we clock overtime.”

  “Crys, really good seeing you. You look great. Take care of yourself, okay? Wow. Never could have imagined this would happen today, let alone ever.” He flashes his smile at me, and I’m feeling like I’m at the last pages of a book. The book of me and Leo finally with an ending, one of understanding and forgiveness.

  Leo grabs his hard hat that he’d dropped to the ground and heads back to the pothole and after re-situating the white dome on his head, gives me a last wave and his kind smile. I wave back as best I can with the bags in my hand and continue my way down the street. I think about all that had been uncovered between Leo and me. That we both had totally messed up. If I’d only had faith, a little faith… a half hour more of faith… my last seven years would have been so different. Maybe better or worse. I'll never know. But Leo seems to love his life now, at least he loves his wife and kids. He’s an honest, hard worker and doesn't seem the least bit bitter.

  I shift the weight of the bags in my hands, and my thoughts go back to my dinner with David tomorrow.