The Girl in Apartment 1203

by Paige Parsons

  The look on Jack's face told her it was an all or nothing scenario for him. She needed to bide time.

  "I know how much you hate secrets and lies. I promise I won't keep any from you, but I just cannot rock the boat with Mom and Grams before graduation."

  "Are you worried that they'll cut you off financially? You know that isn't an issue."

  "If I go in there all brazen, parading you to them, without a care or thought about them cutting me off, that will only make you and any relationship we have seem worse in their eyes. It will all be suspect."

  "You really think three more months of hiding will make them feel better about there being something more than friendship between us?"

  "I don't think anything will have the two of them on best behavior, but once I have my degree and turn twenty-one, any trouble they even think of conjuring up will be pointless."

  Jack picked her up and placed her back to his side and faced her. Keila couldn't piece together what his look meant. It was either a look that meant he wasn't buying a thing she was selling and she was busted, or it was a look that said, okay, Kid, I can work with this and three months of sneaking around would be worth it. Fine, the last one was wildly far-fetched. She just needed him to say something, anything.

  "Jack, please say something."

  "I'm trying to decide if I'm going to cuddle you on my lap and forget this entire exchange or if I'm going to pull you across my knees and spank the nonsense out of you."

  Keila's mouth literally dropped open. Spank her? This wasn't the way she saw the rest of their night playing out. She didn't think it was possible to make things worse, but somehow she had managed. What the actual hell? It was time to get him back on the cuddling track, and quickly.

  "Keila, there will never be a justification for maintaining a lie, never. The fact that you can sit here and give me one after all this time makes me think maybe we'll never be fully compatible."

  "You can't be serious. I'm asking for three months. Just until graduation, please, Jack. They're my family, and you have to agree I would know them best."

  There was that look again. Keila refused to break this time. She had to show her strength of resolve. His jaw was set tight. It didn't look like his chest was rising and falling with his breath. The only way to confirm he was drawing air in and out was the fact that he hadn't yet tipped over in collapse. Keila was extremely proud of herself, when he brought his hand up to smooth down his mustache and scratch across his beard, and she didn't leap from the couch. Her nerves were raw. She'd gone from elated to deflated. What she'd told him wasn't untrue, but he had called her on her bullshit regarding the intensity of their reaction and hers.

  Jack took her hands in his much larger ones and caressed the back side with his thumbs. "I am more serious about this than I am about anything else in my life at this moment. I will not live a lie. You are to call them and tell them you're planning a graduation party. You and Brianna can plan it anyway you like, but they need to know that when they get there, you'll be introducing them to the man in your life."

  Pulling a bit, Keila wanted out from under Jack's intense scrutiny and ultimatum. She was the one who was supposed to have the upper hand at the end of the conversation. Brianna said that ultimatums didn't work and not to give him one, and here she was on the receiving end. It wasn't a turn of events she was a fan of, but a part of her never expected less from a man like Jack.

  "Is this what you really want, Keila? If it is, then you know what I expect and what you'll need to do. Now, I think we've talked about this in enough circles. You have some thinking to do and decisions to make. I'll pick you up for dinner at seven. You made all my favorites last night, so tonight, it's your pick. We can go wherever you want."

  The inside of her mouth was getting dry, proof that she had not closed it since Jack made his little proclamation. When she felt his fingers gently push up, Keila tucked her lips as her jaw came together.

  "Don't be so surprised. Just because we're having a tough day and I might not get the answer I want, it doesn't mean I care any less. This is just one decision I cannot and will not make for you. There'll be plenty of time for that."

  With that and a kiss to the temple, Jack was off the couch and out the door. All Keila could do was follow him with her eyes. Her thoughts kept circling around one question—what the hell just happened?

  Eight

  Jack

  Standing outside of her closed door, Jack hoped Keila hadn't gotten up to follow him. If she was watching through the door's peephole, she wouldn't see the confident man she relied on but, instead, would see a man as undecided as one of the boys she attended school with. There was no turning back, though. He'd meant every word of what he said to her just now and Michael earlier. He wasn't an infatuated twenty something who was willing to act purely on love. Jackson Simmons had learned a few things about love and loss. How could he start a new relationship without being clear about what he needed to get out of it? He had to lead by example. He couldn't expect impeccable honesty from Keila if he couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable enough to be that honest with her.

  Once he was back in his own place, the idea of leaving her to her day to think and make her decision didn't seem as wise as he had let on. The part he didn't think about was how would he spend the same number of hours not obsessing over what would come. He opted to send Michael a quick text and see if he was up to going a few rounds on the course hitting some balls in holes.

  While he waited, Jack turned on his music and filled the apartment with Stevie Wonder's Songs in the Keys of Life album. When in doubt, Jack baked. It felt like a betrayal to listen to that album and prepare to bake as he contemplated a future with another woman. The music and skill were both things he'd learned from Julia's parents. Her mother was a master homemade baker, and, little by little, over the years, she taught Jack so many of her traditional Haitian recipes. The music was her father's love. Certainly, Jack knew of the iconic artist before Mr. Pachoute, but developing a love of the man along with his music was a passion acquired over hours of cooking, laughter, tears, and time. He would always be grateful for his time with Julia and her family, but he couldn't ask Keila to do what he hadn't done, himself.

  It was time to say a final goodbye to his past. He thought he had done it years ago, but in reality, Julia occupied all of his heart, until now. That space could no longer belong to a ghost. He needed to clear space for Keila. She could no longer simply possess a corner. He had to make room for his love for her to expand. He also needed to speak to the Pachoutes. They were his family, too, and he had been honest with Keila; she wasn't his dirty little secret. He wouldn't sneak off to visit them without her anymore or keep his weekly calls a private, painful suffering. Jack had no desire to change his relationship with them, but he would be clear that Keila would need to be a part of that connection now.

  Suddenly, he wasn't baking or listening to music or waiting to see about golf. Jack went into his office, sat at his computer, and opened up his Skype app. This was a long overdue face-to-face chat.

  Boxing up her things wasn't easy, but there were things that really belonged to her parents. Family heirlooms that would never get passed on to their own children, and the thought of that was also so painful that Jack's heart would seize whenever he came across one of them. He hadn't seen or called the Pachoutes since the day of the funeral. He'd wanted to, but he had no idea how to initiate contact or what he would say when he did.

  They had embraced him as a son, but that was based on his love and connection to their daughter. He couldn't imagine they would have much use for him now. Would seeing him bring the agony of losing Julia to the surface all over again? It was how he kept envisioning his reaction to them. He was nearly paralyzed with grief every time the thought of seeing them popped into his head. It had been six months, though, and when his fog had lifted substantially and he'd pulled himself out of the bottle he dived into the day after putting her in the ground, Jack knew he couldn't s
tay in the home they'd made together. He needed an immediate change, and he was lucky to have a best friend who could make it all happen.

  Michael had Jack set up to meet with several clients and two potential ones in Europe and across the states for the next six weeks. During that time, Jack had entrusted him to find him a new Manhattan apartment, have his brownstone packed up and put on the market, and get him moved. It was rare for Jack to give up all control, but when Michael had made the offer, he was so ready to feel at least a little bit better, he'd jumped on the opportunity. The one thing his friend couldn't do for him was pack up all of his dead wife's personal items. It would be Jack's final act of love.

  The first day he'd tried opening her jewelry box had put him on his ass. He had ended up curled up on her side of the bed clutching the box in his arms and her wedding rings in his hand. Waking up disoriented and sapped of strength, Jack dug in and tried again. He spent a week in and out of despair, but he was finally done. He would be leaving on his trip in a few days, and he had no choice but to contact the Pachoutes.

  When he rang their bell, his hands were shaking. Minutes ticked by before he heard anything like someone reaching the door. For the briefest moment, he considered leaving the box on the doorstep and making a bank robber's get away. But Jack wasn't known for his cowardice, and today wasn't the day he would start building that as his reputation.

  "Pitit gason mwen an. Ou tounen vin jwenn mwen. Manke ou. Renmen ou." Mrs. Pachoute was crushing him in an embrace and speaking Creole so rapidly that his out-of-practice ears couldn't pick it up. Her, he could pick up, and he did, hugging her back just as tightly.

  "Maman, no tears. I'm out of practice and I think I only understood two words of what you've said. I love you, too."

  "She has missed you so very much, son. It took all of my powers to convince her that you would return to us when you were ready. You needed your time. I, we, understood that, but it is a blessing from God to have you standing here today."

  Jack was shocked. Outside of explaining recipes, the man hardly said ten words during an encounter. He was more a listener and an observer. He used to say that with two women in the house, it was always best to listen carefully and not to jump in with unwanted or unasked for advice. His silence was always so impactful that when he did speak, you knew it was something important being said. You practically leaned in to get all of the wisdom from this man. Jack couldn't believe the reception he was getting. The tension and fear of rejection left his body and he allowed himself to receive the love that was being offered.

  He ended up spending half of the day with them. There were plenty of tears, but it turned out that sharing the grief really did lighten his heart, and he felt certain it did for them as well. He promised to come by for another visit upon his return and to have them over to his new place.

  They ended up figuring out a new way to connect and Jack was happy to have this bit of family back in his life. He wasn't able to take care of Julia anymore, but he was happy to be able to take care of her parents the way she would have wanted to, herself.

  Remembering that first visit right after Julia's death actually put him at ease for this call. The Pachoutes were his family, and all they wanted was for him to find happiness. Well, it had taken a while, but Jack was confident that a future with Keila was a foregone conclusion. It would, without a doubt, be bumpy but fun. He had to share it with them. Anything less than full disclosure would leave him consumed with guilt and unable to give Keila the best of himself.

  "Maman, Bon wè ou. Ou bèl." Jack loved to make the older lady blush and revert to the sweet, coy girl she must have been years ago.

  "Jackson, you sweet talking devil, you. How are you? I wasn't expecting to hear from you today. Papa isn't back from the market yet."

  "I can't believe he's still going every day. Old habits die hard, hey."

  "You know him. Produce bought yesterday isn't fresh today. It makes him happy and keeps him young. Besides, I'm the most well fed woman in our retirement village. Can you believe this man went to the chef and offered to give him pointers? He's started a cooking class here, and I'm telling you if he wasn't already married, he would have a line of feisty old ladies lined up at his door."

  "Oh, you know he only has eyes for you."

  "He does. He also knows I'm not afraid to take my iron skillet to his head if I even think he's cooking in another woman's kitchen. So, I know you didn't call ahead of time just to hear me go on. What's on your mind, Jackson? You look troubled."

  "Maman."

  "Ah, sove tan ou bay m'. You aren't any better at hiding than Julia was. No tall tales or fancy words, son. What is on your mind?"

  "I do so love your straightforward ways. Well, now I do. I mostly used to just find it scary."

  Jack started to chuckle when her scowl became more pronounced. He needed to get on with it.

  "I met someone. Someone I'm very serious about."

  "You love her?" The question was asked in a tone like the answer had already been confirmed. "You do. I can tell these things."

  The words were stuck in his throat, but Jack couldn't have denied the truth of the statement, even to spare her feelings.

  "Yes, maman."

  "Well, then you must tell me all about her. It'll give me something exciting to share when the husband gets back from the market."

  For the next forty-five minutes, in a combination of English and broken French, Jack talked and took advice on his new relationship from his surrogate mother. Of course, she handled it with grace and love; it was where Julia had gotten all of those traits from. She even told him, what he knew in his heart, that Julia would be happy for him, too. There wasn't anything else to say, except I love you and thank you. Jack did that and assured the next time he called, they would get to meet his new girl. In return, she assured him that they would grow to love whomever he loved.

  That being done, Jack felt a huge lift in spirit. When he got the message from Michael that Brianna was out at an audition and hitting a few balls sounded good, Jack was ready to see his friend for real. He knew Michael would have all sorts of questions, and at least now, Jack was feeling more secure about the answers he would give. There was a part of him that was excited about the newness of it all. Letting Keila know exactly how he felt, instead of hinting about and restraining his gut responses was a relief. The other thing it was, was frightening. He didn't want to overwhelm her or thwart her own growth and exploration, but he was seeing their future so clearly, it would be hard to let her work against it.

  Grabbing his keys out of the bowl by the door, Jack locked up his apartment and took a quick glance at 1203. He was more hopeful about the future than he'd been in months. Keila had been right. They were growing apart. It was intentional on his part, because he was preparing to let her go after graduation. She didn't share her plans or thoughts on what she might be considering as a plan, and he hadn't wanted to pressure her. Jack remembered what that time could feel like. To teeter on the line of student and fully capable and responsible adult could make your head spin. The only thing that had made it better for him was knowing he had so much to do to get ready to be a good husband to Julia. He wasn't sure what Keila used to ground and motivate her. Sliding behind the driver's seat, he was prayerful, today, that it was him.

  Michael was already in the locker room changing out his shoes when Jack clapped him on the back.

  "I was surprised to get your call." Michael said, looking behind him at his buddy.

  "Why?"

  "Man, you were on the verge last night. I figured it was either going very well or extremely bad. Honestly, I was half expecting Brianna to wake me up before my alarm and tell me we had to go and get Keila because you two had a blow up."

  "When have you ever known me to blow up?"

  "Fair enough," said Michael, picking up his golf bag and moving toward the door.

  "Can't hardly wait?"

  "I promised to stop and speak with Eli for a bit. I was counting
on you running behind schedule."

  "Your opinion of me has taken a serious dip. I'd like to think it's an exaggeration and not deserved."

  "Ah, a little of both. I'm giving you a pass, though, because I know what's going on in that head of yours. Now, wrap it up so we can get on with it."

  Jack never found a better or more honest friend than Michael in all of his years since high school, and honestly, he'd never much put energy into looking. There really wasn't any reason to look when you had the best of the best on deck all the time.

  Nine

  Keila

  He wasn't on the other side of the door for more than a second before Keila was reaching for her phone. This was a Sister-911 call. When the call went to voicemail the first time, Keila didn't bother leaving a message. It was likely Brianna just couldn't get to phone quickly enough. Keila dialed right back. Voicemail again. Her message was simple and terse.

  "You need to pick up your phone!"

  A walk about the apartment had her dumping the rest of the drink that, an hour before, had seemed so enticing. It was currently a melty mess. Then she went into her bedroom and stood in the mirror trying to come up with a plan. She got undressed and put on her robe. Nothing was more time consuming than washing and straightening her hair. That was sure to both occupy and free up her mind to maybe find a work around to Jack's demand. She felt a little guilty calling it a demand, when she didn't exactly find it unreasonable. It was just something she didn't want to do. Another glance in the mirror, and she decided she also didn't want to do her hair after all.