I can't quite make out what the tone of his voice is. It's small, teetering on mumbling.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and clear my throat. "I’m good, thanks for asking? And you?"
He nods. "Good. I’m good."
And that's it. He turns toward the bar and orders a beer.
Everyone is looking at me like I’m supposed to have all the answers to something, like I’m the one who should be engaging in conversation more with him.
And it's bullshit.
"Why are you all looking at me like I stole your candy?"
They all shrug their shoulders, going back to their conversations.
What do they want me to do? This is the strangest thing to me. Standing not five feet from me was someone I loved, someone I had a future with. The man has seen me naked for God's sake. He looks good though. Not that he ever doesn't. I mean he's not at that bar for five seconds and there's two girls by his side. They are trying to get more of his attention but all he does is looks up at the flat screen TV that hangs over the bar. He gives the occasional nod, but that's it. They walk away looking sad. I'd love to have been a sitting there to listen to what they were saying to him. He leans onto the bar and places one of his army-boot-clad foot on the brass railing below. Cruz looks sad.
I feel an arm around my shoulder and it breaks my gaze away from the man in my dreams.
"He'll be fine, Har. I really don't think you'll be easy for him to get over. He invested a lot in the both of you. This is hard for him."
I look to Porter as his tall stature crowds me.
I look to Porter. He has been my friend for such a long time. I trust him and value his opinion.
"I know, P. He looks sad to me. Is he sad?"
Porter's face is blank. He doesn't say yes or no just looks at me silently asking
what do I think?
Porter kisses the top of my head and the lights dim and out comes Max's band. We cheer and scream and I’m so happy to see that kid. Max is special. So fun, so caring, and fun to be around. Thea sits next to me on the stools because I’m afraid I'll get thrown around in the crowd. Even though I’m down to one crutch and PT only two days a week, I still have to stay on the side of caution. It doesn't mean I can't sway back and forth and bop in my seat to the way they are jamming. I stop at my two beers because I’m driving and start to sip on water. Willow dances with Craw and Porter, Thea and I sing along to one of the familiar covers the band does. The next song up is one I haven't heard in a while. It's a slow one, giving some of the patrons the opportunity to take a rest from their jumping around. Craw takes Willow on the dance floor and they dance silly. He swings her out, then back into his arms, doing a funny version of Dirty Dancing on the floor. They look like they're dry humping but Craw's face tells us he's just playing around with her. Guys that stand around them can't take their eyes off Willow. She's tall, blonde, thin, and fun. My best friend is the whole package.
As the song continues, my ears begin to ring. I mean I have to hold them with my hands, and I close my eyes and I see it. A vision. A memory.
He's here, sweating and panting and holding some kind of paper. Chad is beside me, his chest puffed out and I don't know why I’m crying? Why am I crying? What's wrong with me? Wait, Chad. Chad telling me that no matter what I do, I will never find anyone who gives a shit about me. I'll never find anyone who thinks I’m worth it. Then Cruz is there and he speaks.
"If you don't feel the same, let me know. If there's doubt in there." He points to my heart.
"Walk away, and if you just want to be friends, well, I'll have to learn to live with that part, but I won't
live
without you in my life."
Then I can feel kissing and I can feel his skin on mine. His lips, his hands, his touch. I feel them.
The song!
I open my eyes and keep my hands on my ears. Thea is in front of me and I can't speak. I can't move although I need to I need to run away, go outside and leave here.
"Harlow, Harlow. Look at me, honey. What's wrong?"
I shake my head trying to get the image out of my head. He and I on the dock. Kissing, feeling each other, making love. I fucking remember us having sex.
I hop off my stool and fall on my ass, and before I can get myself up, someone is lifting me from under my legs and around my shoulders and I’m being carried away. I close my eyes and hold my ears. Then the rush of cold air hits my face as I’m placed on a bench outside of the bar.
"Harlow, open your eyes. Tell me what's wrong. What happened, Turnip?"
My eyes, yes they pop open at the sound of
his
voice, as he calls me his pet name for me. I can't believe he's the one who carried me out, but now he's in front of me crouched down holding my hands on my lap.
I lean over and tell him, "I’m going to get sick." I lean over the side of the bench and throw up.
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Two beers," I answer.
He looks at me funny as I wipe at my mouth.
Without even asking him, he hands me a piece of gum.
"Thanks," I say, so absolutely embarrassed.
He stands up and crosses his arms in front and talks sternly to me.
"You going to tell me what the fuck that was in there, Har? You looked awful and you scared me."
I would do anything to avoid having this conversation right now.
So I stay silent.
Not for long.
"Harlow!" he growls.
I look up at him. "Can we go somewhere and talk? Please? And not here."
The crew comes out asking all sorts of questions. They all look concerned, but that's okay, I’m okay. Not really, but I might as well tell myself that.
Cruz speaks on my behalf. "She doesn't feel well. She threw up when we got out here. I’m going to go take her home." He asks Thea for my purse which she brought outside with her.
"Who drove?" he asks her. Thea motions to me. He grabs the keys from inside my purse and hands them to Thea.
"You and Willow or Craw drive her car home later. I'll drive her to her house and make sure she's okay before I leave."
He grabs me again like he did inside the bar, hooks my crutch Craw brought out into the crook of his arm, and carries me to his car.
I don't fight him, and I try my damnedest not to argue with him, but I do anyway.
"Cruz, you don't have to carry me. I can walk for God's sake."
He doesn't answer me, just gets to his car, opens the passenger side door, and puts me in like a freaking baby. I’m not a freaking baby.
The whole ride to my house, he says nothing. Neither do I. This strangeness and silence is almost deafening and I just want to go home. I told him I need to talk to him but what am I going to say?
Oh, a song that Max's band played triggered another memory?
Do I tell him about the memory I had in my dream last night? I never thought I'd be in a situation like this. I never thought drama would follow me for as long as it has. First Chad, then my choice to end my pregnancy which led to me never being able to have a child. Then my accident, and everything that has followed since. We drive through the streets of Princeton, passing Grayson-Elders, and at each stop light I glance over at him but his eyes are securely on the road in front of him. I can't read what he's thinking.
We get to my house and he parks in the driveway. I tell him I can walk to the door and he doesn't protest. He hands me my crutch and he goes right to my door and unlocks it.
Unlocks it with a key? He gave my keys to Thea.
When I get to the door, he holds it open and says, "Sorry, I never gave your key back to you."
He dips his head down and I walk in the house. Saying that pained him. I can see it in his face and it motivates me to make the decision to tell him what I’ve been remembering.
I lean my crutch on the wall and walk into my living room.
"Sit down,” I tell him. He stands there in the entrance to my living room. His hands buried deep inside his pants pockets, he kicks the floor below slightly with his boot.
"I’m fine. I just want to make sure you feel well, that everything is okay before I go home."
I make my way to my sofa and sit, patting the seat beside me.
"Come and sit for a minute. There are a few things I want to talk to you about."
He reluctantly walks over and sits and as far away from me as possible.
"The house looks good. I haven't been here in a long time."
I lean back on the sofa and sigh. "Yeah, I know."
He sits up and looks at me, astonished by my words.
"What do you mean, you know?" I make myself a little more comfortable even though I’m feeling very far from that.
"Cruz." I swallow hard and I know I have to tell him about my memories and that there will be no going back. He has to know. He needs to know. He
deserves
to know.
"I dreamt about you, about us."
"You what?" He looks bewildered and asks again, "you...you remember something about us?"
Now I have to make it clear that, yes in fact I remember, but it's in bits and pieces. I explain to him about my dream, about the dock and sticking our feet in the water. He just sits and stares waiting on my next words with baited breath. I get the courage to tell him the rest, swallowing my fear I have buried inside.
"And tonight at the bar, Max's band played a song they wrote and used to perform at Jax. When I heard it...," I pause. I don't think I have the Harlow big balls I think I have.
"Yeah, what about it?"
I don't answer. He inches closer on the sofa to me and his pleading eyes search me as though he knows with just a look, I will tell him. Does he or did he hold that kind of power over me? I think about my dream when he told me not to be afraid when I’m with him, and you know what? I’m not afraid when I’m with him. I’m fucking terrified and only because when I look at him in such close proximity, his blue eyes staring at me, I’m so afraid of remembering any more than I already have about us. I’m afraid of letting go and letting all the memories in, which will only baffle me further. I know at this point I can't not tell him.
"I...um, well the song. It was playing the first night we told each other how we felt about each other. I remember the paper towel. I remember Chad being there and I remember you saying to me..."
It's just too late at this point to keep my threatening tears inside so I let them roll down my face. A look of great concern appears on his face when I begin to cry so he gets in front of me on his knees, his hands on either side of my legs on the sofa.
I choke back a sob and he takes my hand and rubs it, whispering to me, "It's okay, Har. Tell me."
"You told me that you would rather have me in your life as your friend if I didn't want us to happen than not have me in your life at all."
He nods smiling gently. His voice is still so soft, so soothing and calm.
"Yes, I did tell you that and I meant every word. I still do."
"Then I...I remembered, oh God, Cruz, I can't. I can't tell you what else."
And I can't. I’m just too embarrassed. The memory of us on the dock that night is too much because sitting at that bar tonight, I could actually feel his hands on me, his lips, him inside my body, making me feel things, that right now, as I sit here and he looks at me with his raging sea of blue eyes that make me stir and my heart race, I’m so confused. I don't want to feel like this. Be confused. It's not fair.
"Harlow, if you don't want to tell me, that's okay. Whatever it is, it’s obviously scaring you and when you're ready, tell me. It's okay. I can just imagine how scary it is to have a memory come back."
His understanding is overwhelming and just an incredible gesture, but he deserves to know the truth. The whole truth.
Bring on the big balls.
"I remember us on the dock that night, what we did. How we had sex, the way we...made love." I pause for a second and look at his eyes that are suddenly so full of hope.
"I remember it all. Every detail and yeah, Cruz, it's scaring me."
Then he does something so unexpected, so unlike someone like him to do. The man who I knew as my friend, who fucked all the girls, the one that felt nothing for women except how they made him feel sexually. But this is a changed Cruz, a changed man who loved me, who felt so much for me.
He rests his head on my knees and begins to cry. I’m not talking about sniffling back tears, but this man is actually shaking, sobbing, crying out. I don't know what to do. What do I do?
Oh God, give me an answer, please.
My tears fall into his hair as his head continues to make a home on my lap. He grips my skirt as he tries to speak, clinging to it, and I try and still my hands beside me but I can’t, and I place them on his head, through his hair and I touch him, to relax him, to calm him down, but it only makes matters worse.
"Oh God, Turnip. You have no idea what that makes me feel. I waited so long for this, for you to remember what we had. I knew it would happen." He looks up at me, his face soaked with tears and a large smile on his face. I wipe the tears away and hold his face in my hands and smile at him but then my stomach drops and I know this is wrong. This is so wrong, even though this is something that feels so familiar. I’m not going to confuse familiarity with this. It's too much. Just because I remember about us doesn't mean there is an us. I still don't remember being in love, only that I felt something for him and the way his body made me feel. I can't decipher between love and sex right now. Sex is how we met in the first place.