by Tory Jane
“As we walked away? I turned back to look at him, and he was standing there watching us. He looked sad. I think he had tears in his eyes. I wanted to run back and hug him.”
Wallace reassures me, “But you didn’t. You were strong. And you looked fabulous, as usual.”
Julia is still confused. “I don’t understand. You wanted to hug him? I thought we hated Jack. Do you think you want to meet with him and talk?”
“I'm not sure what I want or how I feel. It's been over five years. I should be over that man, shouldn't I? Seeing him look sad broke my heart. I still love him. How? The bastard left me behind. How can I still love him? What is wrong with me?”
Wallace considered it. “Maybe you should meet with him? You deserve an explanation. It may help you move past this.”
She chuckles, “In the meantime, you could try online dating. I miss those stories, and Julia is boring now.”
“I did love your stories, Julia. Not enough to subject myself to that kind of misery, though. I’ll have to think of other ways to entertain you.”
“Hey. I’m not boring.” Julia objects.
We look at her and smirk.
“I’m boring? You miss my horror stories. Schadenfreude. You enjoyed my misery. Do you want me to tell you about my sex life with Peter? Those are some hot stories. Or we could look at hairstyles?”
We both cry out, “No.” at the same time, laughing.
“You’re missing out. I’m just saying.”
I laugh, “Stop looking so smug, you boring old lady.”
Julia pinches me. “If I’m boring, then we’ve all become boring old ladies.”
“Shit. I think you’re right. At least Wallace is starting to spice things up with her new look.”
Wallace shakes her head at us. “You girls are silly. If this is what gets you excited, then we are all in trouble.”
“Spoilsport. We need adventure. We need to play. Maybe we should take a road trip.” Julia muses.
“You know, Julia, you're right. I wonder what the New Year will bring.” I think about Jack's kisses the other night and smile.
“Okay, ladies. I hate to cut this short. You know I love my time with you, but business is booming at the boutique. I need to open up and sell expensive clothes to women who don't need them. Isn't capitalism awesome?
“Julia, you need to come by and have a fashion show like Wallace did.”
“I definitely will. I'm fat. Nothing fits anymore.”
Wallace eyes her. “Um, have you forgotten that you’re knocked up? That’s not fat, sweetie.”
“Yeah, tell that to my ass and thighs, and my boobs. Holy shit.”
“I can’t wait to see a curvy Julia. Maybe you’ll have cleavage for the first time in your life. You’ll have to tell me what it’s like! I could pick out some great low cut tops for you.”
“Ha-ha. You guys are hilarious. Wallace, with the perfect athletic toned body and Belle, the petite pixie. I feel much better. Let's go and let Belle make some money.”
It’s You Again
I make my way back down King Street towards the boutique. Smiling as I weave my way through shoppers, I pray my shop is this busy. I need constant distraction lately. “Boring old ladies, indeed.” I laugh to myself.
Why didn't I tell the girls about Jack's after hours' visit? That wasn't boring. Waiting for his next surprise visit makes me want to burst out of my skin. Where is he? What is he doing? Does he want to see me as badly as I want to see him?
I am convinced he was lying. I’ve heard his promises before. Other than running into him on the street, I won’t see him anytime soon. It’s Christmas time. He is with his family. With his son. Probably out buying toys and goodies for that adorable little boy.
Our son would have been five this Christmas. I picture us picking out his first bicycle. What do five-year-old boys like? I should pay closer attention to Wallace's kids. At ages five and two, I know they're loud and wild and always on the move. They seem to turn whatever they can get their hands on into a toy.
Will beautifully wrapped gifts surround Jack’s Christmas tree? I wonder if he still believes in a simpler, less materialistic life. I can picture him designing and creating a shiny, wood toddler bed. It may not matter. Even if Jack still believes less is more, his parents’ will make up for it. Their first grandson? I am certain they’ve bought out every toy store in town.
I enter the store with a sad smile. Still lost in my daydreams. I realize I want to be a part of that Christmas morning, as wild and as extravagant as it may be. Then I think of the child's mother and frown. I am deluded. I would not be welcome there.
“Hello, baby mama, I’m a friend of the family’s. Jack is the love of my life. And you are?”
I try to picture her in my mind. Whom would Jack choose for his shiny new life? Someone as sleek and stylish as him. Slim, edgy, with dark, straight hair. A perfect oval face framed by a chin-length bob with heavy straight bangs. Tasteful, arty jewelry. No tattoos. No nose ring. She wears flattering wrap dresses that show off a tiny waist and beautiful, flawless ivory skin. Her shoes? Thousand dollar Louboutins, sky-high heels, and buttery leather-riding boots. Elegant and sexy.
I hope she breaks the heel off one of those Louboutins on Charleston’s cobblestone streets. And twists an ankle. Or breaks it.
Is she one of the women in the store right now? I scan the crowd. I would never know. Maybe she's already been here. I hope I was wearing my sweet, shop girl façade. Does she know who I am? Does Jack keep a box of mementos hidden away? Pictures of us as we’re laughing, dancing, kissing. Has Jack’s mother gossiped about me as they coo over the beautiful boy?
If he’s been here two months, I feel certain my parents have seen him, and met her and the kid. They are keeping secrets from me. I need to call my mother.
A customer taps me on the shoulder startling me out of my meanderings. “Annabelle, darling, can you help me find something for a party tonight? I’m desperate.”
I focus on my present. “Of course, you know I’m happy to help, Mrs. Smith.” I give her a squeeze and start asking all the right questions, leading her around the shop. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something perfect for you. You’ll be the most beautiful woman there.” I think to myself through clenched, smiling teeth, “It would help if you hadn’t waited until the last minute you old bat, but I’ll do the best I can.”
I spend the rest of the day like this. Reassuring woman after woman that she looks “fabulous,” “spectacular.” They do. I would never dress a client in something unflattering. Bad for business. They need to walk out of here feeling like a million bucks so they will always return to me and tell their friends.
Contrary to my reputation as an evil bitch, it makes me feel good to help others and make them feel good about themselves. Every woman is beautiful in some way, and it’s my job to help her discover her beauty. I can’t hate people as much as I profess I do and be successful in sales.
By the end of the day, I'm exhausted. Cecelia turns the music up loud and helps me straighten up. We dance around the store and celebrate a successful day. The music is loud, and I don't hear the door open. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I scream and whirl around.
Jack is standing there, laughing. “Fuck, Jack. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I'm sorry.” He tries to maintain a straight face. “I called your name.”
All I can do is stand there and pant. I need to learn to lock the door when I close.
“Oh, Bella Belle. I am sorry. If it makes any difference, you looked beautiful dancing around. It reminded me of the night I watched you dance.” He has a wistful smile on his face.
He cannot bring up the past. He’s talking about the night we fell in love. We hadn’t seen each other in years. I was dancing under the moonlight at an outdoor three-day concert in the mountains of North Carolina. He grabbed me around the waist and twirled me.
“Why, it’s Bella Belle, Charleston’s most beautiful belle.�
�� I clung to him as he held me and spun me until I was dizzy. “You look like a magical sprite, a pixie, dancing in the moonlight.” I swear I’ve been dizzy ever since.
We spent three days stoned, dancing, sleeping, and making love in a tent. We were dirty, smelly and dreadlocked by the end of those three days. We were madly in love.
I moved in with him three days later and spent five blissful years living in a cabin on the marsh, far from the world in which we grew up.
I shake my head, clearing the fog of the past. “I think I’m okay now.” I put my hand on my racing heart. “No need for an ambulance.”
Then I punch him on the arm with my tiny fist. “You can’t do that. You can’t sneak up on someone at night like that. What is wrong with you?”
“You’re right. You should lock the door when you close, young lady.”
“You’re right about that. I need to keep the perverts and creeps out.” I rub my hand. “And you made me hurt my hand.”
He reaches for it and kisses my hand gently. “Better?”
My heart races faster.
Cecelia turned down the music. She is eavesdropping while she continues to straighten up. I feel her watching with a smirk on her face and curiosity dripping out of every pore. She is also clearly eye-fucking Jack. She catches me watching her and sneers. What is that about?
“I came by to see if you’d like to join me for a quick drink.”
I look at him, confused. “You want to take me out for a drink?”
He laughs again. “Yes, Annabelle. Is that okay? Would you like to join me?”
“I still have work to do and tomorrow will be another long day.” His face falls. “But I could use a drink.”
Cecelia volunteers, “Go, Annabelle. I'll finish straightening up and lock up for you. We'll be here early tomorrow setting up for the day, and we don't open until noon.” She shoos me out. “Really, I've got it. Go. Have some fun. You deserve it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t like to leave you here alone. You’ll lock the door when I leave?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of everything and have my boyfriend meet me here to walk me home.”
Jack is still holding my hand. “See? Problem solved. Let’s go find a quiet place to catch up.”
I look back and forth between them. “Okay. Cecelia, please call me if you need anything and be safe.” I can’t resist adding, “And no fooling around in the dressing rooms.”
She turns bright red.
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 9:00. We need to re-stock and get ready for another crazy day. Lock the door behind us, please.”
We step out into the night air, and I realize Jack is still holding my hand. What would baby mama think? I swore that I would never be the “other woman” again. I cannot allow myself this pleasure. Yet I don't remove my hand. I'd have to pry it out of his big paw. Besides, it feels good to be touched. I'm a selfish bitch.
We walk up King Street in contented silence. It’s only 7:00. The street is quiet. He pulls me into an alley and takes my face in those big paws. We stare at each other under the light from a nearby lamppost. I can feel tears prick my eyes and fight them off. Do not show emotion. This is nothing.
His lips are on mine again. He forgoes the gentle, slow burn for fiery passion, and I am lost in that kiss. Who is this man? Who cares? I return it with equal ferocity. He pulls away, retakes my hand, and we continue to walk in silence.
He leads me into a quiet bar and finds a circular booth in the back corner. He slides in and pulls me in next to him. Jack is no longer the laid-back stoner I once knew. He is a man who takes charge, and I am a woman who gives up control.
He whispers, “What would you like?”
A million ideas run through my head, most of them X-rated. “Belle” he nudges me, pulling me out of my fantasies. “What would you like to drink?”
I realize a server is standing at our table. “Oh. I’d love a glass of sparkling wine. A prosecco?”
“I'll have a bourbon on the rocks.”
He turns to me. He's laughing at me, again. “What did you think I was asking you, Bella Belle?” Then he’s kissing me, his hands in my curls. I’m confused. I love this, but what the hell is going on?
I pull back and giggle. “Those kisses. Wow. I may have been thinking about more of those kisses.” I’m flirting with him.
“Ah, the Belle giggle. I love that giggle. It’s so unexpected and girlish. I’ve missed it.”
“I may still love kisses, but I’m not a girl anymore.”
He gives me another one and then leans back, tucking me up next to him. “I see that. You're a successful woman. You always were. I see that now, too.
“I'm happy for you. For your success, your hard work. You're a beautiful, strong woman.”
The server brings our drinks. “Cheers to that.
“You're not looking too shabby yourself. You’re a strong, successful man. Congratulations. Are you happy?”
He looks away, thinking. He has that sad expression in his eyes again. When he turns back to me, he studies me. Then he’s on me again, and there is a sense of longing and need in those kisses that I've never felt from him before. He nibbles on my earlobe, “I think I'm starting to find my happiness again.”
I want to straddle him in this booth. Jack is fucking sexy.
“What about you?” he asks, still studying my eyes, scanning my face. I’m sure my pupils are black with desire.
“I’m a work in progress.”
“What about right now? In this moment? Are you happy, Belle?”
This time I reach for him, grabbing his head, and pulling him to me. I kiss him with everything I have. “In this moment? Yes.”
We’re in a booth, in a bar, for anyone to see, having a steamy make-out session. The Jack and Belle bubble. It’s going to burst. I know it. My breath hitches and I feel my eyes fill with tears. No, no, no. Please let me have this moment. Just a little bit more.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs. “Is this okay?”
“It’s fucking hot. It’s later that I’m worried about.”
My honesty brings him to a halt. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t rush you.” He looks embarrassed. “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
“Five years. I’m guessing there are stories to tell.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. I get lost in your kisses.”
“And that’s what you’re worried about?”
I look up at him, surprised. He understands.
He nods. “Of course, I understand.” He strokes my cheek. “As much as I want to get lost in you, I understand. I’m not going anywhere. We have time.”
He takes my hand, and we slide out of the booth. “Where are you living? Can I walk you home or to your car? I need you to be safe. I can't have any more creeps or perverts sneaking up on you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. My car is down by the store. I'm living near my parents’ house. I rented a carriage house after you left.”
“We’re neighbors again? What if I sneak out and throw rocks at your window?”
“Please. You never did that when we were kids. You never even noticed me.”
We may have fallen in love in our mid-twenties, but I’ve known Jack Cliff my whole life. We grew up together. He was the first boy to see me topless, in the kiddie pool. We went to kindergarten together. He teased me and tugged on my curly pigtails. I kicked him in the shins with my hard-soled, red Mary Janes.
Our parents, best friends, live within two blocks of each other, in the hallowed enclave of the Battery, South of Broad in Charleston. We were only children residing in mansions; playing hide and seek in those massive houses. Through kindergarten, we spent every day and every weekend together.
After kindergarten, we attended different schools. I still saw him on the weekends, at Christmas parties, birthday parties, and family dinners. He was my dashing date to Cotillion. Then sports and school activities b
egan to eat away at our time together.
We weren’t childhood sweethearts, but we understood each other and looked out for one another. We had our own secret language and inside jokes, rolled our eyes at our parents, and snuck out at night to smoke behind the pool house. In public? He tugged my ponytail whenever he saw me. I called him a skinny, stinky, yucky boy (all boys were yucky then). He was a brat who teased my girlfriends and me.
By high school, he became quieter, more withdrawn. I missed his teasing. As soon as he could drive, he spent every weekend at Folly Beach surfing the waves and I rarely saw him. Too late, I realized he’d been my best friend, and I missed my friend.
“You're serious, aren't you? Of course, I noticed you. I've noticed you since you were in curly pigtails. I've noticed you my whole life.”
I’m speechless. “Well, you sure did play it cool.”
“Well, yeah, cuz I’m cool, baby.”
I laugh so hard I snort. “You were a stinky, yucky boy who teased me. Punk.”
He's laughing too, as we walk down the street arm in arm. “I was a bit of a punk. Teenage boys are not cool. We're awkward and shy. It wasn't until I started surfing that I felt comfortable in my skin. God, I used to love it out there on the water. Complete peace.”
“But then you became a stud and were too cool for me.”
“Trust me, Belle. No one has ever been too cool for you. Every guy in town wanted you.”
“You’re crazy. I didn’t even know who I was. Boys didn’t want me.”
We reach my car, and he leans me against my car door. “This boy wanted you.”
“You sure took your time about it.”
“Hello? We’ve established I was playing it cool.”
“Until you were twenty-five? That’s a long time to play it cool.”
“I had to wait for you to come back from college. Then you dated every man in town. You did like variety.”
“Not every man. Not you. There was a woman, too. For a brief period. I was trying on different types, discovering what I wanted. It was you all along.”
