Inked Hearts

by Lindsay Detwiler

  I look at the clock. It’s ten in the morning.

  Perhaps Pete has had too much to drink to realize it.

  As he wanders to the back room of the tiny shop, I tug on Jesse’s arm. “Are you sure this is safe? I mean, does he know what he’s doing?”

  “He’s great. Seriously. He just loves his job. You’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, this is nice and all….”

  “Hey. You said you wanted to try new things, right? Come on. You’ll love it.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to calm my fears.

  Deep down, below the raging fear and the sweaty palms, I know Jesse’s right. I know this is what I came here for. I came here to be someone new, to find joy in adventure, and to live my life in a way that’s exciting.

  What the hell is more exciting than flying in the sky, right?

  And, despite the fact Pete has questionable fashion sense, I suppose he is right about one thing.

  If I’m going to be clinging to someone’s arm hoping to survive, I guess clinging to Jesse’s firm bicep isn’t the worst thing that could be happening.

  ***

  “You ready?” Jesse asks once we’re buckled in. Despite the heat, I’m pretty sure I’m as pale as a sheet of paper, the clamminess of my skin noticeable.

  “Hell no,” I say. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

  “Because it’s the best way to see Ocean City.”

  “Right. And also to die.”

  “It’ll be fine. You’ll love it, I promise.” He reaches over to squeeze my hand and, for a cool second, I forget about my sweaty pits and pounding heart. I think about how damn good his hand feels in mine. It’s a strong, scratchy hand—a man’s hand. I think about what those hands would feel like….

  And before I can finish my thought, Pete’s yelling, “Here we go,” over the sound of the waves and the motor. The boat lurches forward, and I let out a scream that could vie with the best horror film scream you’ve ever heard.

  My stomach drops as we go up, up, up. I kick my feet, marveling at how quickly we leave the water behind.

  Once we settle into our spot in the sky, Jesse turns to me, a huge grin on his face. “Isn’t it great?” he bellows.

  My gaze dances around us, glancing at the sky, at the water, and at the beach. From up here, you really can see everything in a different light. Gone is the hustle and bustle of the crazy beach life. The roar of the engine, the slapping of the water seems a million miles away. It’s background music to a peaceful track of our existence up here. The rush of it is simultaneously and paradoxically calming and energizing. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before.

  The only way I can describe it is sheer contentment.

  I nod, a huge smile now floating across my face too. I kick my feet some more, as if I’m on a swing from my childhood, enjoying the feel of the wind and the rhythmic, flapping sound of the parachute.

  We don’t talk for the next hour or so, just pointing at different sights as we drift around in the sky. Some dolphins crest the waves, and I giggle in delight. I’m absorbed, entranced by the sensation of being so far off the water. I’m enthralled by the view, by the adrenaline, and by the man at my side.

  Before we’re done, Pete dips us in the water a few times. I scream again at the shock of the waves on my backside and pray to God I don’t somehow lose my swimsuit bottoms. Flying high behind the boat naked might put a damper on this whole adventure, for me and for some of the beachgoers.

  Once we’re back down and Pete is laughing as if he were the one in the sky, giving us a thumbs-up—I’m certain there’s more than soda in that cup of his—we get situated and get back to shore.

  It’s so odd being back on the ground, but it’s a little different too. I feel like, as cheesy as it sounds, I got a new perspective up there—of the beach, of adventure, and of Jesse.

  Once we’re ready to leave Pete to his own alcohol-induced devices, I turn to Jesse. “Mind if we walk on the sand a little before we go home?”

  He grins. “Look at this. You’re turning into a real beach girl. Can’t get enough of the water, huh?”

  I shrug.

  In many ways, though, he’s right. I’m turning into a real beach girl. I’m turning into a new person bit by bit. I’m turning into the Avery who goes parasailing and who spends the afternoon on the hot sand with a hunky man who knows exactly how to bring adventure into my life.

  I’m turning into the woman I never could be before.

  So when we get to the water’s edge, the sun beating down on our bare skin, I’m not thinking about how I should be getting home and accomplishing something productive today. I’m not thinking about how I’m on what could definitely be labeled a date even though I’ve sworn off men. I’m not thinking about how I can feel my skin building up a fierce sunburn thanks to my lack of sunscreen. I’m not thinking about the pain the sunburn is going to cause in the shower, and I’m not thinking about the pain of what my next move could lead to.

  Instead, I’m just feeling. For once in my life, I’m feeling instead of thinking. I’m feeling the sheer joy of doing something new. I’m feeling the racing heart and sweaty palms that aren’t from the adrenaline or from the hot temperatures. I’m feeling the familiar fluttering of possibility. I’m feeling convinced that maybe love isn’t all bad.

  I’m feeling that at this moment, standing by the ocean waves, my hand on Jesse’s arm, I want nothing more than to have those manly hands moving gently in my hair. I want nothing more than to see those green eyes looking into mine with a sense of longing.

  I want nothing more than to feel those lips moving on mine, the possibility leading to action.

  So I do something this new beach girl named Avery isn’t afraid to do.

  I turn to Jesse, the crashing waves beside us. On my tiptoes, I lean up, staring into his eyes with a confidence born of change. As he stares back at me, leaning down to meet me, I revel in the thought of letting go of the past, of the promises I made to myself, and the fear.

  When my lips meet his, I surrender, only the sound of the rolling waves reminding me that we’re still standing on the ground.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Jesse drops me off at home, I wait until his car pulls away before dancing down the sidewalk. I jiggle the key in the lock, feeling like I’m still floating beneath the parachute.

  Giving in to my heart wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Maybe I’m just ready to let go. Maybe it’s just because Jesse makes it feel easy, makes it feel real. Or maybe it’s just that I’m so damn attracted to him I can’t help myself.

  I fling the door back, ready to finally admit to Jodie she was right. I’m in a good enough mood to deal with her “I told you sos” and her need for details.

  But when I walk into the apartment, a very different Jodie greets me. My face falls, knowing my serendipitous, earth-shatteringly wonderful afternoon is going to be forever changed by the piteous look on Jodie’s face and the wallowing sadness in the atmosphere.

  Lysander and Reed are here too, sitting on the sofa with a sobbing shell of my roommate. Henry sleeps stretched out on their feet, lips flapping as he snores.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately fearing the worst.

  Reed rises from the sofa to greet me, and Jodie peeks up at me through tears.

  “I’m being a moron. It’s fine,” Jodie says as she swipes at the moisture dripping down her cheeks.

  I turn to Reed, hoping for some explanation because she’s clearly not fine. Nothing looks fine. He walks me to the kitchen area, where Sebastian is playing with a rogue M&M on the floor.

  “Lysander and I were out last night and we saw Darren. With another woman.”

  My heart sinks as I turn to stare back into the living room, as if I need confirmation. I fall onto the stool at the island.

  The shock sets in. We were just with Darren and Jodie last weekend. He was crazy about her. They were getting more serious by th
e second. Jodie finally felt like she’d found the one. She’s been talking about the big, scary L-word, a word Jodie doesn’t toss around lightly.

  So how the hell did this happen?

  I don’t need to ask, however, because unfortunately, I’m all too familiar with the workings of infidelity. There isn’t always a rational explanation. There isn’t a flashing sign.

  There’s just the heartbreak of broken trust, the questions of why, and the feelings of “how couldn’t I have known.”

  It doesn’t matter that Jodie wasn’t as far into a relationship with Darren as I was with Chris. It doesn’t matter. Because the betrayal, the hurt, and the shock are the same. And the feelings don’t fade with time.

  Suddenly, the kiss with Jesse, the magical afternoon fades. All I see, all I feel, is the stabbing heartache I know Jodie’s feeling. It’s like her pain transports me back to the scene, to the heartbreak. I see him with her. I experience the sinking feeling of stupidity and shock.

  Tears well in my own eyes, and now I feel like a moron for drowning in a sorrow that should no longer be mine.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know this probably just brings back bad memories,” Reed says, putting an arm around me. I shrug him off. This isn’t about me. It shouldn’t be about me.

  I traipse across the room toward Jodie. I sink down in the seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her and leaning into her.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I had no idea.”

  “I’m a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t be crying over that douchebag.” Jodie wipes at her tears again, the hard, sarcastic exterior trying to return. But no matter how strong Jodie is, I know this is killing her. She thought he was the one.

  “You’re not an idiot. He’s a fucking idiot,” I say.

  “I just… I thought he loved me. I thought he was it for me,” she says, and the tears flow again. “I should’ve known.”

  “Hey, you couldn’t have known. We all thought he was crazy about you. He fooled us all,” Lysander chimes in from the other side of Jodie.

  “Well, apparently he wasn’t as crazy about me as that Cynthia bitch.”

  “Cynthia? Her name is Cynthia?” I ask.

  “Yeah. She works at… um… an adult entertainment lounge down the street,” Lysander adds.

  I cringe. This can’t help things.

  “Listen, Jodie. He’s a moron. But I know that doesn’t help. At all. It sucks and it hurts. It’s going to take some time. But you’re going to be okay. You’ll move on and someday, you’ll be happy he showed you his true colors when he did.”

  She turns to look at me, a frown on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here being all dramatic about some guy I’ve only been dating for a little while. It’s ridiculous, especially after what you went through.”

  “Hey, stop. I know better than anyone that it doesn’t matter how long it’s been or that it’s not your fault. I know exactly what you’re feeling. So don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. We’re here for you, and we’re going to get through this.”

  “That’s right, we are,” Reed says. “Lysander and I have this covered. Tonight will be the sulking in your pajamas, eating ice cream night. We’ll pop in a good movie and spend the night being a little weepy over this Darren dude.”

  “And then tomorrow night,” Lysander picks up. “Tomorrow night it’s ditch the dickhead night. As in, screw him, forget him, we’re going out. We’ll get you so liquored up, you’ll be wondering who the hell Darren even is and wondering how quickly you can move on.” He smiles, winking.

  “Oh, I do love a good liquored-up night,” Reed replies, clapping a little. “We’re good at this.”

  Jodie stands up now. “Really? I think you two are awful at this. Pretty sure you shouldn’t put a timeline on loss. And pretty sure a psychiatrist wouldn’t recommend liquored up as a technique for overcoming grief.”

  “Well, then the psychiatrists don’t know what they’re missing. Come on. Trust us. When have we let you down before? Remember the whole Aaron debacle? We got you through that, right? We’ve got this. Now, you two stay put. We’re going to go get us all the biggest, highest calorie sundaes we can find on the boardwalk.” Reed and Lysander practically dash out the door to carry out their mission, leaving us in the aftermath of their plan.

  “Those two are lunatics,” Jodie says, smiling. “But I love them.”

  I stand up now, too, leaning in to hug her. “All jokes aside, I know this isn’t easy. I know it’s going to take more than a few days. But those two are right. Someday you’ll be happy to move on.”

  I pull back from the hug, and Jodie raises an eyebrow. “Does this mean you hopped into bed with Jesse? Because for a woman who has supposedly sworn off love, you’re awfully adamant about this whole moving on thing.”

  I feel myself blush. “No, we didn’t sleep together.”

  “You kissed then.”

  I want to deny it. It doesn’t feel like the right time. But the uncontrollable smile on my face gives it away.

  Jodie squeals, the pre-Darren-cheating-scandal Jodie showing her face. “I knew it. Oh my God, give me all the glorious details. Lots of tongue I hope? Did he cop a feel? Let’s go.”

  “Jesus, Jodie, what are we, seventeen-year-olds?” I say, rolling my eyes to fit the persona.

  But then I settle myself into the sofa and give her all the illustrious details—as if I’m a seventeen-year-old confessing about a first kiss.

  For a moment, we’re not two scorned lovers, two cheated-on women who feel like fools. We’re just two women animatedly talking about lips and hands, and thinking about how even though love is a risk, sometimes it pays off.

  ***

  I awake to the doorbell dinging the next morning. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tossing on a sweatshirt, I stumble toward the door. Jodie’s door is shut. We were up pretty late last night, movies and sundaes helping keep her mind somewhat off Darren. I scuttle toward the door, not wanting the doorbell to wake her up.

  I pull open the door and see quite an appealing sight. Jesse—with coffee from my favorite spot.

  “Hey,” I whisper. “Jodie’s sleeping. Let me put on something more substantial and maybe we can go for a stroll?”

  “Sure.”

  I let him inside where he stands at the door, coffees in hand. Sebastian, meowing wildly, runs over to rub Jesse’s leg. Henry, of course, is still asleep in bed.

  I dash back up the hallway to the bathroom, rushing through a hurried morning routine. I manage to slap on a few dabs of powder to take away the shine. The rest will have to do.

  I slip into my room, toss on a bra and some real clothes, and head back to Jesse. He’s right where I left him, Sebastian still rubbing his leg.

  We wordlessly slip out the door into the misty morning, the sun barely breaking through the clouds.

  “Thank you,” I say as he hands me a coffee. We turn left, heading toward the sand as I sip the delicious dark roast.

  “Welcome,” he says. “How was your night?”

  “Not so good,” I admit. “Darren cheated on Jodie.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Apparently Lysander and Reed caught him. She’s a train wreck. Never saw it coming.”

  “Me neither. He seemed crazy about her. That was just last weekend he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Wow.”

  “Yeah, well, that doesn’t always mean anything,” I say, taking another sip as my sleepy mind wanders that dark and lonely road.

  We cross the street, ambling toward the sound of the waves.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Jesse asks.

  I shrug. “Not really. These things just take time. I know Jodie will be okay. She’s strong and fierce. We’re all going out tonight, though. Lysander and Reed’s idea. Want to come?”

  “Sure, I’m game. I’ll even buy the first round,” he says. I turn to him with an appreciative smile, knowing Jodie’s going to need all the help she can get—from us a
nd the liquor.

  We plunk our toes into the sand, sauntering toward the water. The water that just yesterday I kissed Jesse by. The waves, the gentle breeze takes me back. Was that really just a day ago? It feels like so much has happened. It feels like the assuredness I felt in planting my lips on his has faded away, Jodie’s tears and regrets taking me back to a place I didn’t want to go.

  I know Jesse’s not Darren, and he’s not Chris. But Jodie’s heartache has reminded me of why the promise I made to myself was so important to me.

  I’ve been down the road of love, and I’ve lost. I’ve been in Jodie’s shoes, thinking forever was within reach, only to find out it was never even on the table at all.

  Am I ready to put it all on the line again?

  “You’re quiet. Are you okay?” Jesse asks. We’re at the water now, the chilling quality stunning me as it slaps against my toes. The bite in the morning August air suggests that summer is closing shop and soon fall will take its place. I can’t help but mourn the change a little bit, feeling like there isn’t just a chill in the air.

  “I’m okay. The whole thing just brought up some rough feelings.”

  “Yeah? Of your ex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to talk about it?” he asks gently. I turn to look at him. I can tell he senses my hesitancy. I can tell he was hoping to take a walk with the woman he kissed yesterday, to revel in the bliss of our connection. Instead, he’s found a disheveled version of the go-get-it woman from less than twenty-four hours ago.

  I kick a little bit of water up before turning and heading a few feet back. I sit down in the sand, not caring that my ass will be covered. I twist the cup of coffee into a mound to secure it, and stare at the water. Jesse walks over and takes a seat beside me, copying my position.

  “It’s just…. I’m sorry about yesterday. About the kiss. I shouldn’t have let that happen.” Even I can hear the regretful tinge to my voice and the sadness that drips from every word. I hate that we’re having this conversation. I hate that what we shared yesterday has been tainted by reality. Perhaps even more than that, I despise that I let myself get into this position at all.