Progress (Progress #1) (20 page)

Two broken ribs, head trauma, stitches,
April 2011/social altercation

Three broken teeth, stitches,
November 2011/social altercation…

“See anything that bothers you in there?” Dr. Jackson said in his high-pitched pansy voice, walking through the door. He wore a blue dress shirt and khakis, and I noted he had lost some hair since the last time I saw him. Poor bastard would be bald in a year, maybe two.

I closed the file and handed it to him as he walked by. “Nothing I didn’t live through. It’s fine. It’s done. Keep moving.”

He took the file, pausing at my side and looking down at me. When I looked up, he gazed out the window, slapping the file on his thigh. “Shall we begin?”

“You have mustard on your lip. Did I interrupt lunch?”

He wiped the corners of his mouth. “Sorry.” He hurried to his chair and sat down. “Give me a second, will you?”

“Take all the time you need.” I slung my ankle over my knee to stop the bouncing, and I searched for something on the walls to distract me. But the abstract artwork didn’t do much to keep my focus.

“It has been three months since I saw you last,” Jackson said, perusing my file. “How have things been for you?”

“I’m down now. In depression,” I said. “I’m not sure if the meds are working.”

“And you’re taking them? Thee, ahh,” he continued, searching for my medication list.

“Lamictal, Seroquel, Wellbutrin,” I finished for him.

“Right. And you’ve stuck to the prescribed amount?”

“As far as I know. I don’t remember every dose, but most.”

“Any thoughts of suicide or self-harm? How about isolation or feeling as though your friends and family would be better off without you?” He spat them out, a checklist of all the things he’s supposed to ask a person suffering from his clinical diagnoses.

I shook my head.

“Sadness, anger, losing time?”

Paycheck, paycheck, paycheck.
That’s all that kept rattling through my head as he spewed one question after another. I didn’t know him well enough to consider whether or not his condescending tone meant he gave a shit. But I had no intentions of us being chummy, anyway. He knew more than he needed to know with that file. And from the uncaring expression on his face and constant checking of his watch, he had no intentions of spending the full fifty minutes with me.

He was never going to see anything past that file anyway. It didn’t matter to him that I was an innovator, a thinker, a perfectionist, a motivator, or a philosopher.

He didn’t care that I’d been a championship cyclist, a golfer, a chess player, or a musician.

My diagnosis was all he was ever going to see.

So fuck him.

“Well, it seems as if the medication is doing the job it’s supposed to do. You don’t seem as low as you’ve been before when we had to adjust them. Are you comfortable with your doses?” he asked, typing something into the computer on his desk.

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed quietly. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Then I’ll send a renewed prescription to your pharmacy. Is it still the Walgreens on Lac Lavon?”

I nodded, blinking slowly. “Yep.”

“Perfect, Jeremy. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

The name slip didn’t even surprise me. I stood and rolled my eyes, reaching my hand out to shake his. “Nope. But you’re doing an excellent job here, Doctor Jacobsen.”

He narrowed his eyes, but I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I walked out the door with even more distaste for our medical system than ever before.

Chapter Nine

Jesse

The medication worked.

After a handful of nights of restful sleep, I slipped back into my routine and avoided the darkest days. By Thursday I was able to close at The Crimson. By Friday I was riding again. And by Saturday I was eating actual meals.

It was the fastest I’d ever recovered. That I could remember, anyway.

“Hey, Ma. What time is the thing tonight?” I asked when she picked up the phone.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s at seven o’clock at Uncle Al’s boathouse. Your father and I will be headed over there in a bit to help him set up the lights and canopies. Do you remember how to get there?” she asked in a rush.

“Yeah, I remember. Do I have to dress up for this?”

“Jeans and a nice shirt are fine. Are you bringing Jake again?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m bringing my friend Charlie. We probably won’t stay long.”

“Great! I look forward to meeting him! Gotta run, Jess. See you tonight!”

She hung up before I could correct her. I guess she—and my family—would be surprised when Charlie turned out to be a
her
, not a him.

The Anders Fall Family Reunion was a big deal: the most expensive caterers, the biggest tents, and limitless wine and beer. Besides the beer, I didn’t really see the appeal. It wasn’t that I didn’t respect my adopted family in my own way, but they threw money around the same way I rejected cuddling at five o’clock in the morning. I guess we always took for granted what we had in excess.

I’d texted Charlie three times that week, but I hadn’t heard back from her. I tried not to let it bother me, but it clawed its way through my chest. Jake had seen her, all the employees at The Crimson had gotten to speak with her, but I was stuck playing the asshole again.

I didn’t know what I needed to do in order to make it up to her, but I’d been thinking about things I could do all week. Two dozen daisies? Three? Were flowers too ordinary for a girl like her? Even if they were her favorite, shouldn’t I have gotten her something a little more special? I thought about getting her a carton of cigarettes, but nothing says “fuck you” better than handing her two hundred small sticks of death by excruciating chest pain.

And if I showed up on her doorstep, would she be home? Would she still come with me that night, no matter how sweet the sentiment?

I had a lot of explaining to do. I had a lot of things to apologize for. I wanted to do it right. I wanted to be good.

She deserved good.

She deserved the best I could give.

With one idea stirring in my head, I went to the nearest mall and went in search of the perfect gift.

***

I pulled into her driveway at seven o’clock, and held the tiny package in my hand. I hadn’t realized at the time, but when the guy behind the desk wrapped it, it looked like a ring box. I chuckled to myself thinking how quickly she’d usher me out the door if I proposed.

Yep, crazy as fuck,
she’d think.

It was a refreshing change to see my knee bouncing from my nerves rather than my mania. But I couldn’t help myself. Compliments and gifts were rare for me, and I tried to use them sparingly. Never did trust anyone who gave them out freely.

I’d ironed a blue shirt, but snuck the green one underneath. I liked the way she looked at me when I wore it. It gave me a needed boost of confidence to do what I was about to do. I had no idea if she was still upset with me, or that she remembered that she said she’d come with me. But it was going to take a faster-talking, smoother Jesse than the one to which I was accustomed.

Deep breath in, then out.

I grabbed the keys from the ignition and shoved them in my pocket. Setting aside my reservations about what I was going to say, I jogged up to the steps and rang the doorbell.

I scratched my head.

I jingled my keys.

Deep breath in, then out.

Her dad answered the door, and I brought my hand up to my mouth as I cleared my throat. “Mr. Johnson. I’d like to speak with Charlie. Errr, Charlene. Your daughter.” I smiled. “Please.”

“Jesse, right?”

I nodded, and he opened the door for me to enter.

“She’ll be right up. Can I get you a beer?”

“No thank you, sir. Are you sure she’ll be right up?” My brow pinched. “I don’t think she knew I was coming.”

A woman walked around the corner from the kitchen, a replica of Charlie but a foot shorter and thirty years older. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw her face.

“She knows you’re coming, Jesse.” The woman walked to me with her bright eyes and warm smile. “I’m Karen. This is Bill. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Karen pulled me in a snug embrace and invited me to sit on the couch.

‘Not a mean bone in their bodies,’
Charlie had said. No wonder she never wanted to leave. Charlie’s parents gave me the same feeling as when I’d walk into Lily’s place.

The football season had begun, and Bill sat in a chair wearing Vikings gear: purple and gold sweatpants and sweatshirt. A small television sat in the corner with the football game tuned in, and the fireplace blazed warmth that spread through the room.

Relief struck me. Not only had Charlie remembered she’d agreed to come with me, but she had no intentions of backing out of it.

With every heartbeat, my confidence rose, and there was suddenly nothing that could ruin that night.

“So, Jesse, are you from around here?” Karen asked.

“I graduated from Eagan.” I nodded.

Her eyes flickered to the small red box in my hand and I held my breath.

Shit.

I held it up, not knowing what to say about it. A nervous laugh flew from my mouth, and the corners of Karen’s mouth turned up.

“It’s not what you think. I mean, it’s just a gift.” I grated my teeth against my bottom lip, trying to keep myself from smiling.

“I’m ready.” The voice came from behind Karen, and I looked just past her shoulder. My smile disappeared as I took the first look at Charlie that I’d deprived myself from in over a week.

Her blue eyes were the first thing I noticed. I suppose they were always the first thing I noticed. Her hair was pulled up, away from her face. Two slim legs extended down from a simple red dress that hung off her shoulders, exposing the creamy skin of her neckline. She didn’t have a lot of makeup on her face—the way I preferred her—but her lips were stained dark to match her dress.

My lungs lost their breath and my heart rate increased, rapidly slapping against my chest. The furthest thing from my mind was that I should’ve stopped staring, because nothing could’ve bribed me from watching her. No matter how lovesick I appeared.

She was stunning.

“You look beautiful, honey,” Karen said.

Charlie looked down to the floor and softly smiled with a roll of her eyes. “Thanks, Ma.”

She walked to me, and with each step I had to remind myself to keep standing.

“I’ll just get my shoes on and we’ll go.” She winked. “You look nice,” she added with a smile.

I stared open-mouthed, willing my voice to come. But that sweet-talking, charming way I was prone to have around beautiful women misfired. I couldn’t find a single sentence that didn’t sound like something that would be portrayed as desperation to get her in the sack. Cheap lines wouldn’t do me any good. They’d be an insult—a sloppy compliment for the woman in front of me.

Radiant
was the only word that hiccupped in my head.

So I remained quiet and kept my eyes on the shoes that she slipped onto her feet. She grabbed her purse and nudged her chin toward the door.

“Ready?” she asked.

Tell her she looks beautiful.

“Ready,” I said.

Tell her so that she understands.

“See ya,” she said to her parents, then grabbed the doorknob.

Say it with some fucking conviction.

I followed closely behind. “It was nice to meet you,” I called behind me.

Make her believe it.

“B’Bye you two! Have fun!” Karen said with a wave.

Now.

We walked out the door, and with the chilly night air she hurried to my car.

“You’re driving, I assume?” Charlie went for the handle but I jogged up behind her.

“Wait.” I stopped her. I unlocked the door and lifted the handle, opening the car door for her.

She swallowed and tilted her head to the side. “What are you doing? Did you just open a car door for me?”

I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never opened a car door for anyone in my life. But it felt like the right thing to do.

She chewed her lip, and I stood staring at that plump red lip like an idiot.

I looked away with a quick gasp of breath and narrowed my eyes on the cars on the busy street. “Yep,” I said as casually as I could manage.

She opened her eyes wide and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes shifted from confused to calm quickly, and she huffed a quiet laugh. “For clarification purposes, I’d like to know if I should consider this as something more than just getting drunk in a corner of your family reunion.”

“What do you mean? What do you want this to be?”

“Hell no,” she shot back. “If this is a date, you better speak up now.” She wore a playful smirk and tapped her foot against the ground.

So adorably feisty.

But I didn’t want to scare her with the word, no matter what
I
thought we were doing.

Of course it was a date.

I fiddled with the box in my hand and it reflected the light that dusk still offered; a glimmer of its reflection danced across her face, causing her to look down.

“What is that?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked.

I scratched my jaw and peeked up at her.

The realization hit her as she stood shivering in the driveway. “Is this a date, Jesse?” She shut the door and closed the distance between us, demanding my answer.

I shook my head, ignoring the question that had no correct answer. I kept my head down, scraping the pavement with the sole of my shoe. Clearing my throat, I spoke quietly, uncomfortably, and the last word caught in my throat. “I wanted you to have this.”

“Hey,” she whispered, sensing my nervousness. “Don’t be weird. We’re friends.” She smiled. “There’s no need to get weird.”

I chuckled. She was right. This was still just me and her. Nothing had changed. I held the box up to her with a nod.

“What is this?” She smiled, taking the box from my hand.

“Just something to remember.”

“Remember what?” She studied the tiny red bow on the tiny red box and lifted her chin.

“Me,” I whispered.

Her entire body softened with the word, and her eyes sparkled in the sunset. “I don’t think I could ever forget you.” She laughed. “But I’ll take the gift anyway.”

She lifted off the top and unfolded the paper inside. Her smile faded and her chin quivered as she pulled the silver pieces from the red box.

Two charms sat in her palm. One small silver frog and a dragonfly to match.

“I didn’t get you a bracelet or a necklace,” I added. “I figured you could do with them what you wanted.”

Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t let them drop. “So I can put these in a box in my room, and in five years I can sift through all of my memories and smile?”

I chuckled with a nod. “Yeah. Something like that.”

With a roll of her eyes and another sniff, she said, “They’re amazing. Thank you.”

“Can I say something else?” I continued, speaking as fast as I could find the courage.

She wasn’t as quick to flinch at that question anymore, which made me happy.

“Yes,” she said.

I leaned into her and closed my eyes. “If I don’t get drunk enough to tell you, you look beautiful tonight,” I said, softly kissing her cheek.

Her breath caught and she followed it up with a smile. “Thank you.”

I lifted the handle once again and she slid into the car, keeping a tight grip on the charms in her hand.

“So where is this thing anyway?” Charlie asked as I got into the driver’s seat.

“Minnetonka. Not too far. A half hour, maybe.”

We merged onto the freeway and I turned down the volume on the stereo. She frowned when I cut it off, which—again,—couldn’t have made me happier. The girl liked my music.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I hesitated, knowing that it wasn’t a question I should have been asking. I twisted my hands around the wheel and asked anyway. “How much weight have you lost?”

By her reaction, I couldn’t tell if she was appreciative that I noticed or if she was appalled I asked.

“Seventy,” she finally said.