Compassion (19 page)

“Don't you dare go after him, Jaye,” my father threatens. “You stay in the house! You let that...go.”

“He's not a
that
, dad. He's a person.” I glare harshly. “A person who's had a rough, messed up life.”

“That's not your problem!”

“Dad-”

“Don't make this harder, Jaye. Don't make me do something I'll regret.”

Preparing to dash after the love of my life I snip, “Do what you have to. I'm going to.”

As quickly as I can, I wiggle my feet into a pair of my flats and follow him outside.

Unfortunately he's stumbled into a nightmare of a different kind.

“Arrest him!” Mrs. Prescott shouts on her grass pointing a finger at him. “It's
his
trash! He's been tossing it in my garbage to frame my husband!”

“Frame him?” Archer's voice says with such confusion. “Frame him for what?”

“I would never cheat on my wife,” Mr. Prescott insists. “This has just been a giant misunderstanding officer that...he,” the dark haired man points to Archer, “is responsible for. I want him arrested as well for trespassing!”

The officer closest to Archer asks, “Have you been trespassing?”

“No sir,” Archer answer quickly.

“He has!” Mrs. Prescott screams.

“I have not.”

“He's a homeless man who wanders around this neighborhood! Ask! Ask anyone they'll tell you the same thing.”

The other cop folds his arms. “Your face does look familiar. Fits a description we had. We had been hearing complainants of a strange man wandering around, digging through trashcans, but we haven't heard 'em for the last couple of months. They seemed to just suddenly stop.”

Archer tries, anger doing it's best not to be included in his tone. “I can explain.”

I slowly approach the situation.

“That's because she's been lying and hiding him! He's probably been holding her against her will!”

“I would never do anything to hurt her!”

Mrs. Prescott points to me. “She's probably been being raped! Look at those marks on her neck!”

“Excuse me?” I bite in a high pitched tone.

“I would never hurt her!” He yells stronger this time, fists curling.

“Lower your tone sir,” the officer whose face isn't familiar warns just as his hand falls to his belt.

“Little Jaye Jenkins,” the older officer greets me. “You're not so little anymore.”

“Officer Green,” I greet back with a soft grin. “Nice to see you again.”

“Oh no you don't,” Gwen growls moving closer. “That may have worked the first time you saved this useless excuse for a human being but it's not going to work this time! He needs to pay for trespassing on my property and stealing my husband’s credit card information to rent hotels and buy expensive dinners! And holding you hostage!”

Time out. How fucking crazy does she sound right now? I mean, I'm sure finding out what a cheating jerk her husband is, probably snapped something inside of her with no ability to return from it, but these accusation are so outlandish the cops have to see through it...right? Right?

“I uh...I wanna press charges for that too!” Mr. Prescott pipes up.

Archer takes a step forward. “I'm not holding anyone fucking hostage!”

“Language!” Green yells at him, his own hand falling to his belt.

Before Archer or I have a chance to further defend him or clarify the situation, a voice joins in with such an authoritative presence I feel like the six year old version of me who broke the lamp all over again.

It was an accident....

“Jaye Jenkins, over here. Now.” His tone angers me to swing around and stomp towards him. Ready to tell him I have a different problem to deal with at the moment, I'm stunned quiet when he says, “Stay here. This'll only take a minute.”

On a sigh, I watch him head for the officers, “Green. Muller.”

“Jenkins,” they greet him in return.

“Got your call about the domestic dispute,” Green continues, “and now they're trying to blame this gentleman for a slew of crimes including the harm of your daughter.”

“I'm innocent,” Archer says to my father.

My father's hand lands firmly on Archer's shoulder. “I know, son. Give me a minute with these two. Why don't you go wait by Jaye?”

Archer nods and heads towards me while Mrs. Prescott's banshee accusations get louder. In a matter of brief moments, my father not only deescalates the situation, but manages to prove the two were lying and trick Mr. Prescott into confessing about his affair.

Did I forget to mention he's a damn good cop?

“Bastard!” She swings at him in a rage of tears. “You're a bastard! Get him out! Out of my house! Out of my life! He tried to hit me!”

“I did not Gwenith!”

One officer escorts Mr. Prescott to wait at his vehicle while the other helps Mrs. Prescott inside where she wastes no time tossing things onto their lawn.

Ten bucks says if the cops weren't here she'd set that shit on fire.

My father passes by us and in a low mumble declares, “We'll talk inside.”

The minute the door shuts, I turn to look at Archer.

“Everywhere I go. Destruction. Hate. Violence.” He shakes his head at me. “I don't belong here. I don't belong around these people. People period.” Too many topics are tumbling too fast for me to tackle by the way he snaps next, “Was your father right about what he said earlier? Am I just some good samaritan bullshit gone wrong? Is this some sick, twisted wounded animal situation that has blinded you to what you
really
belong with in life? Is Mrs. Prescott right? Have I been...fucking holding you hostage? Emotional hostage? Is that a thing? Why the fuck are you with me? You could have anyone...anyone Jaye! Why me!”

Overwhelmed with irritation, I snip, “Because I love you!”

He simply wets his lips.

“Because I loved you from the moment I saw you. The minute you looked at me, I felt more joy, more gaiety in those brief moments than I had in my entire fucking life. No matter what I did, I couldn't get those eyes or your sexy face out of my mind!” His jaw slips open in surprise. “And then you went the distance for me. For
me
. You showed more thanks to me in one moment than people I've known for most of my life. You know why I love you? Aside from all that? Because you made it clear from the moment we connected you didn't want the bullshit existence I was just making the motions of, you wanted to see me. What I like. What makes me smile. What makes me happy. And every time you discovered that from me, all I wanted was to discover that from you.”

Archer moves towards me. In a shaky voice he declares, “I'm head over heels for you. You're the only thing that gets me up in the morning and the only thing worth working for during the day. I would never hurt you. I would never...I could never...”

“I know, Archer. I know.” The moment his arms slide around my waist I command, “Now come inside, thank my father for his help, and stand beside me. Don't make me fight for us alone.”

He nods and I link our hands together. Leading us back into the house where my father has relocated himself to my living room couch, I take another deep breath.

Dad doesn't allow me to speak first. “That woman needs a night behind bars if you ask me.” When neither of us disagree he continues, “Might show her what can really happen when you toy with others’ lives like she was trying to.”

“Thanks for stepping in Dad,” I quietly say.

“Thank you, sir.” Archer echoes.

“I don't believe you belong behind bars because you made the choice of being with my daughter any more than I believe your life should have been ripped apart because hers was and she couldn't deal with it.”

Taking that as a good time to make introductions, I say in a strong voice, “Dad meet Archer Cox. Archer Cox meet Charles Jenkins. My dad.”

He drops my hand and extends it towards my father. “Nice to meet you, sir.” They shake, which is when Archer states, “I am the hungry, homeless vet she offered a place to stay when no one else would offer me so much as a slice of bread.” Their hands drops. “However, I am more than a useless grunt who was injured in the Army, sir. My past does not define me anymore.  Your daughter has not only restored my faith in my humanity but has reminded me I determine my own future. So while I completely understand and respect your distaste for me, for my lack of job, and for the lifestyle we've stumbled into, you need to be aware that I am doing everything I can, every day to change my circumstances. Every day I do everything I can to be the man your beautiful daughter deserves. And I would never, ever, harm her. I'd rather eat a bullet.”

So.....um....predictions on what's going to happen next?

“Harm her and you will.”

“Dad!”

Archer nod. “I'll feed it to myself, sir.”

There's a brief pause. “How long have you lived here?”

“Almost four months, sir.”

My father's face frowns once more. “Then why don't you have a have job yet?”

“No one wants to hire an ex-soldier with medical issues who hasn't worked in years.”

Dad hums his understanding.

“I have applied everywhere I can get my hands on. Everything from flipping burgers to filing paperwork. I check online for new jobs in the area every morning before I start working on the remodels-”             

“You're the handyman,” my father sighs.

“I am, sir.”

Yeah, I was gonna mention that!

“Why don't you show me the work you've done around the house?”  Archer nods as my father stands with his coffee cup. “We can discuss my concerns with you before you meet my wife at dinner tonight.”             

“Wait, what's that now?” I interrupt.

Did all the lack of oxygen to my brain during sex cause me to start to randomly hallucinate?

“The four of us are going to go to dinner.  Properly meet and get to know the man you've kept hidden in your life,” Dad informs in what resembles a punishment tone. “Go ahead and make reservations at your mother's favorite restaurant.” He turns back to Archer. “Lead the way.”

I run my fingers through my tangled hair, pulling at the kinks to relieve some of the tension.

What just happened? Better yet...what's about to happen? I don't have a good feeling about this. You've met my mother. Do you blame me? Well, at least this day can't possibly get any worse. It just...can't.

Archer

“You're worried.”

Jaye glances over at me clueless to the fact she's nibbling on her pinky nail. “What?”

“You only chew on your nail like that when that beautiful brain of yours can't stop running in circles or worry.”

She stops the action. “You only tug at your clothes like that when you're worried.”

Realizing I'm doing it, I cease. “I'm only worried because you're worried.”

The light turns green and Jaye begins to chew again as she accelerates.

In the years I've been dating, I've probably met one set of parents. I was 18 and the only way they would let her out of the house with some random guy was if they met him first. They were alright. Seemed like decent human beings. Then again I was young, dumb and had one thing on my mind. Now, I've met Jaye's father and while that was a rough start, a fucked up mind altering rough start, it ended better than I could've possibly imagined. He admired my work. Expressed his basic concerns for his daughter. During the process of seeing the changes I made he concluded that he had never seen Jaye happier, that he had never seen her so comfortable being herself. He also added he had never seen her stand up to him or risked upsetting the law over anyone before. It was hard to determine if this made him proud or pissed. It got to the point where he only really wanted to know that she wasn't in any immediate emotional or physical
danger. Did I mention he also said he was going to run my prints to see if I had any priors? Insured me if he found one single thing on my background check he didn't like he would be back with more than one squad car to rip me out of the house. I didn't expect anything less from a cop.

My eyes wander out the window as we pull up to another light. There's a man in tattered clothing leaned against a brick building with a coffee cup in his hand trying to stay warm under a blanket.

Quietly I confess, “I know him.”

Jaye turns to look at me. “Who?”

I lean back so she can see him. She gets one glance before the light changes again. “He lost his money in a ponzi scheme. He was out a job. He lost his house, his wife....his two kids. One minute he had all the money in the world and the next...” My body slides down in the seat. “And the next...nothing. I was exactly where he was just a few months ago...” Under my breath I sigh, “Not everyone gets a Jaye Jenkins in their life.”

Not everyone gets a mocha angel to walk into their world and breathe life back into them. Am I taking this shit for granted?

She pulls into the parking lot of the fancy steak restaurant. After handing the valet parking attendant her keys, she tugs my body so it's flushed with hers. My hands slip around her waist like it's the only place they belong. “No. Not everyone gets a Jaye Jenkins, but not everyone gets an Archer Cox, either.”

I attempt to smile.

“Don't beat yourself up because life is giving you another chance. Be thankful you took the opportunity when it was presented and didn't let it pass you by. I'm not saying that he hasn't taken his, I'm saying maybe it hasn't come for him yet. But hating yourself for finally getting to a better place doesn't help him, and more importantly it damn sure doesn't help you.” She tilts my chin up. “There's nothing wrong with taking care of yourself. You taught me that.”

Another smiles tries to crawl on my face.

She's got a point. Still. Dr. Jenny tells me the same thing. That I have to let go of my past. But it's hard seeing your old life, the life that in the blink of an eye could be your present life again, directly in front of you. It waters the seed of ambiguity. Encourages it to grow, to choke the life out of the hope you've built. It buries you in mountains of questions until you begin to wonder if this is all a facade, until you begin to believe that this won't last. That's the thing I needed to see before meeting Jaye's mother.

My girl gives me a quick peck on the lips before folding our hands together to lead us inside the swanky restaurant. Inside she tells the hostess our name while my eyes wander around at the black and red décor. On the wall to left is a glass display case of wine bottles while the right has a window that oversees the private parking lot, which is being patrolled by a guard.

Yeah. It's that kind of place.

I tug at the collar of my white button up shirt.

We bought this suit for the interview I have yet to go on. It also came with a tie, but I felt it was a bit much for dinner. Clearly I was fucking wrong.

We're lead to a round table in the back corner where her parents are seated already sharing a glass of red wine. As soon as their eyes land on Jaye, they light up alike.

Can't blame them.

“There's our lovely daughter,” her mother coos at the same time we sit down. “And what I can only assume is the man who has given her such a beautiful glow.”

That many orgasms, I dare
you
not to glow.

I extend my hand across the table. “Archer Cox.”

She shakes firmly. “Margret Jenkins, but you can call me Maggie.”

Maggie Jenkins is easily what I can see Jaye becoming in a couple decades. And it's not bad if I might add without sounding creepy.

“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” Turning to look at Jaye's father, I nod my head at him. “Nice to see you again, Charles.”

Her father nods in return. “Archer.”

“So, I've taken the liberty of ordering a couple appetizers, so I hope you're not allergic to mushrooms or seafood,” Maggie giggles and reaches for glass of wine. “Chris wasn't allergic to anything, so I can't imagine Jaye would date anyone who was.”

The first comparison doesn't surprise me.

“Feel free to drink or eat whatever your heart desires. We're having red, I know Jaye prefers dessert wines even though she doesn't
need
them. Chris was always great about keeping an eye on how many glasses she had to keep the extra weight from settling-”

“Mom!”

Oh this is gonna be hell.

“I understand, Maggie,” I start. “However, Jaye's her own person. I believe she has the right to have as many glasses as she sees fit. She can make her own choices.”

Charles hums though his wife sucks her teeth.

She forces a smile back on her face. “We are just so thrilled to meet you! Well, I'm thrilled to meet you since my husband got an advanced invitation apparently.”

Jaye opens her menu. “Not exactly an invitation...”

I offer her a smile before I open my menu. While I scan the list of meals, which lack prices, Jaye makes small talk with her parents over the traffic and the abrupt change in weather.

Clearing my throat, I lean over and ask, “What are you going to get?”

“She usually gets the fish with the white sauce,” Maggie answers for her daughter. “She gets that while Chris would get the steak and asparagus.”

While hearing his name tenses my girlfriend, I simply keep my eyes on her and ask, “Is that what you want?”

Slowly she turns her face towards mine. After one long look, she answers, “No.”

There's some small commotion from across the table.

“It's not.”

Pride swells my chest.

Not because she's refusing to eat fish, but because she's standing up to her mother. Something I've learned she doesn't do often. First her father, then the police, now her mother. It's been a fucking busy day.

“I want steak.” She turns to look back at her mother. “With a baked potato.”

Her mother lifts her eyebrows. “That's...a little richer than normal for you.”

“But it's what I want,” Jaye declares softly.

Maggie has no idea that this conversation isn't
actually
about food...

With a wave of her wine free wrist she says, “Fine. Then get the steak.”

Jaye lets out a deep exhale, which is when I say, “I'll have the same.”

Our waiter returns, hands Jaye her glass of wine, and takes our orders. The entire process appears effortless on the waiter's part from the way he recalls our orders without writing them down, to the way he helps place the appetizers, which have arrived, on the table before he exits.

I fold my hands in my lap and allow everyone else to fill their plates first.

Maggie takes notice immediately. “You can help yourself.”

“He's being polite,” Charles defends before having a bite of a stuffed mushroom. “He's being a gentleman. That should say something.”

She offers her husband a crooked smile and then me. “It does. Why don't you tell us all about yourself. What do you do for a living? Where do you live? Where'd you grow up?” The rushing of words comes to an abrupt halt. “Better yet! Why don't you start with how you two met?”

Before I have a chance to gather food on my plate, Jaye grabs it and begins to scoop for me.

My guess is she's trying to busy herself to not have to answer the questions. It's fine. I understand. Hell, I don't even blame her. Explaining me is not something I think anyone would want to do to their family.

“Well...” I adjust myself in my seat. “Jaye and I met when I was digging in her trashcan.”

Maggie's eyebrows dart down. “Because...you thought you lost something in it?”

“No.” When she gives me an uncomfortable look I continue, “I was hungry and searching for food in it. Jaye offered me something to eat. We officially met a few days later when she helped me elude the police because her neighbor tried to have me arrested for digging in
her
trashcan.”

Why do I feel like it wasn't that wrong and awkward when it happened, but saying it out loud feels...well it feels really fucked up, for lack of better phrasing.

An uncomfortable laugh comes out of Maggie as she reaches for her wine. “That's a joke. Some sort of insider joke I don't get.” She shifts her eyes to between her daughter and her husband who both have steel expressions. There's an uproar of displeasure in her eyes, which is when she nails her daughter with a harsh look. “Tell me he's lying.”

“No,” Jaye denies quietly.

A sharp gasp comes from her and I feel any desire to eat the squished brown heap vanish.

I think it's supposed to be mushrooms. Honestly? While I've eaten things that look much worse it wasn't because I wanted to.

“He's a hobo!” Maggie shrieks in a high pitched whisper.

“Mom!” Jaye bites back.

“Don't you mom me.” She shakes her head rapidly. “You can't possibly be actually dating a hobo!”

“Stop calling him that,” Jaye argues. “That's so rude!”

“It's alright,” I sigh resting my hand on her lap.

“Get your filthy fingers off my daughter,” Maggie demands. “You..You...leech!”

Charles clears his throat. “Maggie, calm down.”

“Calm down?” Her voice shrilling squeaks at him. “You want me to calm down that our daughter is dating...not dating, that's not dating, I don't know what to call that-”

“We are dating,” Jaye meekly argues.

“You are
not
dating,” she corrects her. “You're clearly confused and have developed Stockholm Syndrome-”

“That's not what that is!” My girlfriend snips.

What is it called when it's in reverse? And why is it that's the only way the outside world seems to be able to think a woman like her would ever fall for me. Wait. Nevermind.