Authors: Jeannette Barron
Jimmy left the truck running. He wasn't good at this and hadn't had much practice. He wanted to go home and process his day with the help of a six pack. But, it was time to man up. He went ar
ound and opened her door. Weary, he began, "Well, I guess this is good-bye." He brushed the hair from her eyes and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call. I know your landlord's a jerk. I'll help with whatever...just call." He crushed her against him in one of his famous bear hugs, and asked, "You okay?"
"I'll be okay."
The embrace ended with all but one thing not having been said between them. Jimmy didn't throw the truck in reverse until he knew she'd made it inside safely. He waved through the open window and shot her one of his best
no worries
smiles. To which, she replied with finality, “Thank you."
The house was cool, dark, and still mirroring the hollow
ness of her chest as she made her way to her room. She turned on the overhead light, shut the door, and slumped onto her bed. She was greeted silently by the ancient wallpaper, rippled and torn. Often, she’d lain in bed imagining the colors and brightness of the paper after it was first applied decades ago, perfect and whole. Tonight, her dreams failed her and she witnessed the ugly reality of the decaying pink and red rose garden climbing her walls. Like her, she lamented, the vines would remain in this room and continue to fade. They’d lost their chance of being cared for when the original owners sold out. She’d lost her chance to be cared for---tonight. Or if she believed her speech to Jimmy, she’d lost her chance years ago.
She scooted off her bed and over to her beloved stack of romance novels that covered most of one wall, her only possessions, her only obsession. She fumbled through the stacks, remembering the stories by the corny covers of
half-naked lovers embracing, rereading the melodramatic descriptions printed on the backs. Tales of lords and ladies, pirates and princesses, cowboys and maidens, tales of love lost and then found under impossible circumstances. She searched her memory, trying to recall how much of each larger than life story was resolved by chance and how much by choice. By design, it seemed there was always a little of both. And by choice, Lily realized she’d only selected books with happy endings. Shaking her head, she mumbled, “What a joke.”
Before, her love of romance novels seemed justifiable, but now as she sat scanning book after book she saw the absurdity of it
. These past months, she’d attempted to script her own fantasy, even though she knew it wouldn’t end the same as her books; she'd be without marriage, without children. Had she tried to create a story even without love? Did Jimmy love her? He never said. Did she love Jimmy? She knew she should. But none of that mattered now. The bottom line was that she’d ignored all that she knew about herself and
tried
for that elusive happily ever after and failed. “So stupid! Stupid. Stupid,” she scolded aloud.
Angry tears poured from her and splashed the books gathered in her lap. One by one, wild with disgust at herself and her fate, she ripped off the covers, tore out chunks of pages, and hurled them at t
he door. “It’s all bullshit!” she screamed and quickened her destructive pace. Not satisfied, she rose to her knees and grappled at the piles, tearing blindly. Since the age of ten, she knew she’d be alone. She knew her sister’s leaving had flipped a switch inside of her that disconnected something vital. She’d always hated that truth, but not until today did she fully understand what she couldn’t have as a result. The why she understood; she’d always understood. The what Jimmy and his family represented, an arsenal of people that potentially could care about her. Rage burned through her as she was overcome with the knowledge that her chance---her choice ---was taken from her long before she knew to protect herself from the damage of others. “Who sure as hell should have known better!” she shouted.
Lily’s hands ached with the strength it took to pull the books apart, but she wanted more. She wanted all of the hurt to spill out---old and new. After tonight, there’d be no more pain. She wanted to be empty again, like she was before Jimmy. Empty was better than this. She grunted with the effort it took to rip the spines and then howled in triumph with each success. She grabbed for another book. This one had a thicker cover and fought to preserve itself. She growled in her concentrated aim to win. Her sweaty hands slipped, and she felt the paper slice her palm from pinky to thumb.
Stunned by the searing sensation, s
he dropped the book, suddenly conscious of the one sided war she waged. Over half of her collection lay in pieces scattered across her bedroom floor. She took her wrist in her uninjured hand and watched blood pool to the surface. She stared at it, and time slowed with her pulse. Lily flexed and stretched her fingers carefully, fascinated by her control of the pain. The movement stung, but the blood stayed just below the surface, just below the visible flap of skin. Comforted by the calm that seeped from the sanctuary of her long-ago established defenses, she uttered, “Just a paper cut.”
Exhausted and sated, she stumbled to the bathroom and washed her face and hands
, avoiding her reflection. She stuck three band aids along the length of the cut on her palm, knowing they wouldn’t last or make a difference. After retrieving a trash bag from the kitchen, she cleaned up her mess. Numb from her tantrum, she worked methodically, removing any trace of this night. She thought perhaps tomorrow she’d regret destroying her books, but for now, the loss seemed inconsequential. She finished readying herself for bed and crawled under the covers, remembering as fatigue blanketed her mind that Kim was staying at Brian’s tonight.
She was alone.
16
A month had passed since the breakup. Kim stayed close to home, keeping an eye on her roommate, marveling at Lily's resiliency but suspicious of its authenticity. Kim noticed her friend's puffy eyes in the mornings and didn't buy the "allergies" excuse. She noticed Lily stiffen and listen when a truck rattled down their street or the phone rang. Most telling, she thought, was Lily's excuse of a sudden and persistent stomach bug which kept her from dinner most nights. After watching Lily these past weeks, Kim knew for certain that despite her friend's bluff she had not been immune to love.
Until today, Kim had
made a point of avoiding Jimmy and his family. Her loyalty lay with her roommate. This wasn't the time to mend or build a relationship with her best friend's ex, a mantra she repeated daily. She'd thought it might be best to decline the invite to little Sara's birthday party, but Janie had called reminding her of the date and time as well as making it clear upon hearing Kim's hesitation that not coming would ruin Sara's whole day. "The only things she asked for were a cabbage patch doll and to show you her big girl room." In a tone reminiscent of her pushy mother's, Janie finished, "I'll expect you at 11."
At 10:57, Kim swung open the gate to Janie's backyard to find the
party in full swing. Men and grills on one side, women, children, and covered dishes on the other side. She'd attended so many of these Rogers family gatherings that she'd come to know what to expect and she'd come to be expected. Instinctively, the first person she made eye contact with was Jimmy. She knew he'd be here and she knew she'd freeze up when she saw him. Their fight at the picnic had rocked her. It had been passionate, horrible, and unexpected. She mulled it over a thousand times and still couldn't figure out what had set them both off. Brian had happily relayed his cousin Tom's take on the exchange, suggesting that working things out under the sheets was their best course for reconciliation, but she'd been convinced that Tom was an idiot months ago. Besides, it was inappropriate to consider that possibility so soon after the breakup, and too much to hope for. At hearing the apparent ease to which Jimmy let Lily end the relationship, Kim wondered if it had simply run its course like her roommate had alleged or if there was more to it.
She broke her gaze from Jimmy's just in time to catch the whirlwind of pink scrambling to
ward her, shouting, "Kim! Kim! Happy Bertday! Happy Bertday!"
Kim scooped her up.
"Happy Birthday. I love your dress. You look just like yummy cotton candy. I think I'll try a bite." She nibbled on her neck as Sara giggled and squirmed. Sara was big for two; she'd be big for three. Kim put her down before she dropped her and twirled Sara like a ballerina instead, poofing the tulle in the little girl's skirt as she laughed. "Is your dress new? Was it a birthday present?" Kim asked.
"New dress," Sara chirped.
"Happy Bertday!"
Sara took Kim's hand, leading her most prized guest from table to table, showing off the stack of brightly wrapped presents and the
Sesame Street
cake, plates, napkins, and balloons that littered every inch of available space. Satisfied that her friend had a complete tour of the outside, Sara dragged her in the direction of the screen door that led inside where Janie sat curled up in a chair with a light blanket draped over her two week old nursing baby.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Come on, Sara, we should go back outside and not inter
rupt your mommy." Kim pulled one way while the birthday girl pulled the other.
"Hi, Kim.
Don't be silly. If I didn't allow people around when I'm nursing this little guy, I wouldn't see anyone for months." Janie peeked under the blanket checking her son's progress and continued, "I'm glad you came. Like I told you on the phone, Sara
really
wants you to see her big girl room; it was an early birthday present. Go on back and then I'll let you hold Scotty when she's done showing you around."
"Okay," Kim called over her shoulder as she conceded to Sara in their game of tug of war.
Sara and Kim entered the room as the birthday girl announced once again with wide arms, "Happy Bertday!"
"
Ahhhh...I get it, Sara." Kim sat down on the double mattress that rested on the floor and parroted back, "Happy Bertday."
Sara's blanket was quilted in the familiar vertical brown and white stripes of Bert's sweater from
Sesame Street
, a hand-painted portrait of Bert and Ernie hung over the night stand, and on the opposite wall there was a mural of Ernie and his rubber ducky sleeping. Pigeons were painted along the window sill, their depiction so real Kim thought she could almost hear them coo. Someone had cleverly recreated Bert and Ernie's bedroom from the beloved children's television show.
Sara hopped on to Kim's lap, beaming with pride and pleased with her friend's understanding. Kim hugged the girl tight and said, "You sleep in Bert and Ernie's room. I love it."
"You mean Bert, Ernie, and Princess Sara's room. Don't you?" Jimmy drawled from the doorway.
Kim was caught up in the charm of the room and forgot her earlier trepidation about seeing him. She asked, "Who did this?"
"Janie is the family artist. Sam's room is all
Dukes of Hazzard.
And the nursery is a jungle theme with lots of critters hiding in the trees. There's no doubt; my sister's got a gift." He sat down next to Kim and made monkey sounds at his niece, who laughed and played along.
Without warning, in that quick way that young children shift their attention to something new, like a dog to a squirrel, Sara popped up and ran out the door, calling, "Happy
Bertday!" as she scampered off.
Kim and Jimmy were left alone side by side on the bed without a buffer. He smelled like fresh air and after
shave. Kim tensed as all of her senses kicked into high gear. She searched her mind for a neutral thought and blurted, "Now that I work with kids all the time, I have to familiarize myself with all that kid stuff I missed growing up. I've watched more
Sesame Street
in the last six months than I did in the last 23 years." She gave him a quick nervous glance, crossed the room, and pretended to examine the artwork, all the while inching toward the door.
"That makes sense. You have to talk their language." Jimmy watched her, realizing she might make a run for it any minute and readied himself. "I'd say you
're good at it, too. Sara and Sam think you're great. I'm positive baby Scotty will like you also."
"That reminds me. Your sister said I could hold the baby when she was done feeding him. I'm
gonna go check..."
Jimmy grabbed her hand before she reached the door. "Don't go." He stood with his chest to her back
, her tiny frame a breath away, rigid with tension.
After dropping off Lily a month ago, the last time he'd seen or talked to her, he'd headed home and straight for the cold beer in his refrigerator. Jimmy sat at his kitchen table in the dark until early morning, backtracking his way through their conversation and their ill-fated relationship. When Lily had said that last night that she'd never lied to him, he admitted that was true. Lily had always been straightforward about who she was and what she had to offer. For almost a year, he had chosen not to listen. Instead, he convinced himself again and again that she'd come around to seeing things his way. Lily had tried "leaving her past in the basement" and moving forward,
but he learned from her that the repressed storage of memories doesn't equal their disposal or lessen their impact. Jimmy was the product of his experiences and so was Lily. He'd unfairly decided that his plan for the future was better than hers. He'd pushed and pulled for months, ignoring their differences, ignoring his gut.
As
ide from Lily being a knockout, it had been her wounded heart that attracted him to her. Her fragility drew him in like a fat kid to cake. But fragile, she wasn't. During that last talk in the truck, Lily had shown Jimmy just how much in control she was of her life. She didn't need a hero, and he had a bad habit of trying to be one.
By the time Jimmy had finished his fourth beer, he realized he should be grateful to her. He'd spent time with a kind, smart, and gorgeous woman who'd been honest and patient w
ith him from the start. She'd taught him a valuable lesson, and he'd be hanging up his cape for good now. It was time to do the smart thing for once and chase after a woman who wanted what he wanted with no persuasion necessary. And he suspected he knew the perfect spunky little blue eyed blonde ripe for his attention. He wasn't certain the timing was right, but he didn't want this opportunity to be alone with Kim to slip by.
Jimmy
eased Kim back into the room, ready to deliver his prepared speech when suddenly his brash confidence that Kim felt the same way about him vanished. He sputtered, "We need to talk. I... See, the thing is...at the picnic...what I said..."
The quaver in Jimmy's voice ignited Kim's courage and revived her annoyance with him.
He should be nervous, not me. I've done nothing wrong.
She crossed her arms and turned to him, tapping her toe with impatience. "This better be an apology you’re trying to spit out, buddy."
Pulling at his cropped hair, he attempted organizing his thoughts manually. He reminded himself that this was Kim, his best friend, and that this talk was a long time in the making. But still, he couldn't believe how anxious he felt as he wiped the sweat from his upper lip. "Sh
it, Kim. Throw me a bone, okay?"
With soaring antagonism, Kim waited while Jimmy stewed. However, her patience quickly depleted itself, and she couldn't help but stir the pot some more. "Here, would you like some help? Apologies usually start with the words I'm sorry and then you might want to throw in something about being a big jerk."
Jimmy snapped, "What about you? You owe me an apology, too."
"Oh, please! You started it."
"Started what?!" Jimmy took a hostile step forward and Kim held her ground but had to lift her head even higher for her glare to hit its mark.
Poking her finger into his
broad chest, she spat back, "You know what you did."
"No, I don't! I can't remember what the hell set me...us off. What did
I
do?"
She th
rew her hands up exasperated. "Well, if you can't remember, how do you expect me to?!"
"What? You don't even know why you're mad!" He laughed. "That's just stupid."
Her skin flushed red; her eyes looked like two giant blueberries roasting in a fire. "Did you just call me stupid?" she hissed.
Jimmy's smirk grew.
Damn, she's feisty.
"No, Kim. I don't think you're stupid. I think you're wonderful." And before she could protest, he clasped her face in his large hands and kissed her. Stunned, she froze in place, eyes crossing because she couldn't think to close them. Determined to coax the fight out of her, Jimmy deepened his ministrations until she melted against him and became his ally, her mouth and tongue dancing with his, finding their natural rhythm.
Kim forgot about her loyalties and lost herself in this fantasy coming to life. Her thoughts were scrambled and all her senses were brimming over. His mouth was hot and wet. His tongue, at first demanding, switched to a gentler pace as she surrendered to his touch
. Of their own volition, her hands moved up his chest and shoulders, searching his face for that patch of stubble that he always missed just below the curve of his chin; the one she'd imagined stroking so many times. Finding it, she brushed it with the pad of her thumb and smiled softly against his lips.
Over the past year, she'd memorized Jimmy's face and body from a distance, engaging her vivid imagination for whatever parts she hadn't truly seen.
She knew his baiting blue eyes, that teased like sunny skies in the rain, his tall muscled frame which failed to intimidate, because his mischievous smile drew people in, and his hands scarred and calloused, chronicling his strong work ethic and unwavering determination to get the job done. She predicted that curling up to Jimmy would be the same as losing herself in an electric blanket set on high, a heat that would engulf her. She'd guessed correctly.
They stood panting together, both overwhelmed with the passion they'd shared,
neither knowing nor caring how much time they'd lost in each other's arms. Kim thoughts cleared first and her heart ached with the questions forming in her mind. Breathless, she scolded, "Damn it, Jimmy, why did you have to pick me last?"
"I screwed up, Kim. I'm sorry." He hoped that was answer enough. He was still having trouble catching his breath and didn't want to let go of her. "There is definitely something going on between us. I don't want to ignore it anymore."
Her voice cracked. "Why did you pick me last?" She stepped away from him and slumped onto the bed. The pathetic part of her wanted to let this slight against her pride go, but she'd always been placed at the back of the line and she'd never had the courage to ask the offender why. She needed her questions answered and her insecurities attended to this time, because this felt different, this felt possible.