All She Wanted (2) (14 page)

Briggs

“My life used to look very different.”
I took her plate and laid it next to
the sink before coming back to the counter. “I made a lot of stupid choices—living
for escape, living to mask my pain, living to avoid the truth in the mirror.” I
paused, glancing at her briefly. “What I told you before was true, I wasn’t a
good man. I hid behind the honor of my job. When people view you as a hero,
they usually don’t imagine that you’re throwing your life away when you’re off
duty, but I was. I hurt a lot of people, was careless and reckless—especially with
women. I didn’t believe in relationships, I thought they were too much work. I
only wanted uncomplicated and easy…but there are consequences to that kind of
thinking.”

I felt the guilt start to pull at me
the way it did whenever I opened up the box of my past. She stared at me, unblinking,
as if waiting for me to continue.

“I don’t want to be that man again.” I
stared at my hands. “I take one day at a time now, Charlie. Dating hasn’t really
been a priority for me, yet. Changing one bad habit takes self-control, but
changing a way of life takes nothing short of a miracle.”

After several seconds of silence,
Charlie finally spoke. “It’s hard for me to imagine you that way—the way you
described.”

I dropped my head, nodding.
It’s even harder to know I was that way.

That’s when she hit me with, “But the
only way to overcome our past, is to deny its power over our future.”

I shot my eyes back to her.

“
Our
past?” I asked.

She picked up her phone and scooted off
the stool carefully, bracing her arm. “My past has won more times than I care
to count.” She walked upstairs with the phone to her ear without saying another
word.

Everything in me wanted to ask her what
she meant—why had her past won? What was in her past? But I could not ask of
her what I was unwilling to share myself. I glanced at the clock, I only had
thirty minutes before I had to meet Kai, and I still needed to shower.

I wrote a note to Charlie and left it
on the counter, placing the dishes in the sink before heading up to my
apartment.

Charlie

Briggs left a note for me, telling me
that he’d be out for a few hours. Apparently he’d gone to church with Kai.

Church wasn’t a foreign concept to me;
I’d grown up attending church every Sunday. And even though I hadn’t graced the
inside of one in quite some time, I couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed that he
hadn’t thought to invite me.
Does he
think I don’t believe in God?

Thinking back over the last couple of
weeks I guess I hadn’t given him much reason to assume otherwise, nor had I
asked that question of him; religion wasn’t something I threw into casual
conversations.

Yet the way he had talked to me this
morning…

My phone buzzed.

Jackie:
Leaving in 20. I’ll bring a movie.

Me:
Great. Thx. Let yourself in. I’ll be in the bath downstairs.

Jackie:
You’re not expecting my help with that, right?

Me:
No, I can manage.

Jackie
: Good.

I made my way to my parent’s bedroom
down the hall. My mom had recently won the battle of which room in the house to
remodel first: their bathroom, which now included a giant soaker tub. Today I
was very happy for her victory. Dad had wanted to change the guest room into a
home gym, but he caved in the end. There was never any question that he would,
of course, but he put up a pretty decent fight. The truth was that he would do
anything for my mom.

After doing a one-handed jig to get
undressed, I slid down deep into the tub, keeping my wrist elevated out of the
water. It was still wrapped, yet the throbbing had gone down with the meds I had
taken with breakfast.

If I could only choose two hobbies in
all the
world, they would include: playing the piano, and
soaking in a bathtub full of bubbles. Dorm-life hadn’t quite provided me that
luxury. I would have to get my fill for the year while I was home.

I leaned my head back against the cold
porcelain and closed my eyes. A minute later my mind found its way to Briggs. I
thought again about what he had said earlier in the kitchen about his past. I
wanted to ask him more questions, but how could I do that when I had never
shared the secrets that lurked in my own. What I did know, though, was that
whoever he used to be, whatever former life he had lived before, didn’t match
the definition of the man I had come to know. I hoped he could see that.

It had taken nearly ten years of intermittent
therapy for me to recognize the difference between the
girl
who had been born into hardship, versus the girl who had been rescued from it.
Those lines were easily blurred—feelings, memories and physical reminders, seemed
to pull me back every chance they could.

It’s a common misconception when adopting
a young child from a hard circumstance, that life will resume back to normal
fairly quickly. But to a child that has never known
normal…
life starts over. Day one starts the re-birthing process. Trauma
doesn’t extend extra grace to children—it only changes the symptoms.

Though I was fortunate to gain a family
in the Lexington’s, the road had not been easy.

**********

A lady
that smelled like wild flowers drove me to what she called, “my new home.”

I didn’t
talk. I was afraid of talking. The last time I had, mama died.

We drove
for a while. The flower lady turned on the radio when I wouldn’t answer her
questions. I liked the music. We parked in front of a big white house with more
grass than I’d ever seen. She said this was it.

Mr. and
Mrs. Lexington stood on the porch watching us as we walked up to the house. I
had no bags, no things to carry—except for one ratty blue blanket.

It was
mine.

They
spoke softly to me, their words kind and thoughtful. I climbed the stairs with
them as they opened a door to a lavender bedroom with a white princess bed
against one wall, and a play kitchen on the other.

They
said it was for me.

I
blinked.

I didn’t
know if this was just another story in my head…or if it was real.

After
taking the first warm bath I could remember, they told me it was time to sleep.
But that bed wasn’t my bed. Once they left and closed the door, I pushed back
the unknown blankets of the unknown bed. I crawled down onto the floor and slid
underneath its metal frame, pulling with me a single, blue blanket.

I slept
that way for two years.

**********

A knock at the bathroom door brought me
back to reality.

“Charlie, I’m here.”

“Hey Jackie…I’ll be out in a minute,
just need to rinse my hair.”

“Alright. I’ll be downstairs—hey, is hottie
home?”

“No.”

And he’s
not your hottie.

**********

I gave up on any article of clothing
that had required a hook, clasp or button, and finally settled for yoga pants, a
sports bra (which took some creativity to get into) and a t-shirt. I met Jackie
downstairs a few minutes later. She was already lounging on the couch, looking
like a Greek goddess. It was sickening the natural beauty that some people were
allowed to flaunt to the rest of the average world.

Jackie had brought over the latest Pride
and Prejudice remake, as well as several others. Apparently, she was planning
on staying for a while. I found myself growing anxious as the hours passed,
thinking about when Briggs would arrive. I reminded myself to be grateful for
Jackie’s willingness to help me…even if all she had done was watch TV, even
while I had loaded the dishwasher.

I had to
keep
reminding myself.
 

I smiled as my phone buzzed.

The hottie
who lives above your garage:
What can
I bring you home for lunch?

I wasn’t sure if I was happier that he
had thought about bringing me lunch, or that he referred to my house as “home”.

I smiled and lifted my phone. Texting with
my non-dominant hand suddenly didn’t feel so difficult.

Me:
Oh um…let me think, thank you!
 
Jackie is here btw.

The hottie
who lives above your garage:
Jackie
from the club?
Interesting choice, Shortcake.

Me:
Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Didn’t you just leave
church? Isn’t judging looked down upon…?

The hottie
who lives above your garage:
Yes,
but God gave me eyes, ears and a brain to use them. I call it like I see it.
Okay, so is fast food out?

Me:
 
Was it ever in? Yuck.

The hottie
who lives above your garage:
Fine.
I’ll pick up some sandwich makings, then. You make things SO difficult.

Me:
And that’s why you love me :-).

A full minute went by and I started to
feel nervous about my lame joke—maybe I should have included a row of
hahahahaha
after
it?

The
hottie that lives above your garage:
That’s
just one reason.

I stared at the text like it held the
answer to all life’s mysteries. My stomach dropped to the floor.
I just might save this text forever.

“Why ya smiling so big over there? Is
that
lover
boy?” Jackie cooed, as she
crossed her ankles on the coffee table.

“Not lover boy,
just
Briggs.”

I put my phone down, not wanting to
draw any more of her attention to it—or to him.

“Hmm…okay.”

She smiled and flipped her hair over
her shoulder, combing through it with her fingers.

Did I
just give her more ammo or less by my reply?
I
couldn’t tell.

I pushed the thought out of my mind and
decided that I was being
way
too paranoid
and jealous over someone that wasn’t even mine.

But I
wish he was…

The rebellious thought shocked me.

Sure, I thought Briggs was good
looking—okay, I thought he was very good looking. I also thought he was nice,
funny, caring, kind, strong, and loyal, but did that mean-

Do I
want Briggs?

My stomach flipped again, as if
answering my question.

Is this
what being on the rebound feels like?

Am I not
broken over Alex anymore?

I didn’t know the answers to those, but
I
did
know that I thoroughly enjoyed our
friendship. And if I wanted to keep that, then I needed to stop thinking like a
typical girl. Besides, dating wasn’t a priority for
Briggs,
he had made that perfectly clear this morning.

Friends,
that’s all we are.
 

Briggs

“How’s my little Captain Hook doing?” I
called out as I walked through the front door. I laid the grocery bags on the
counter and looked around for Charlie.

Barbie jumped up instead.

“Oh, hi Briggs! Aren’t you
so sweet
for bringing us lunch?”

It
wasn’t meant for you…but whatever.

“Its just sandwiches, no biggie.
Where’s Charlie?” I asked flatly.

“Think she’s in the laundry room,”
Jackie said, shrugging.

I narrowed my eyes at her, “Doing what?”

“Um…laundry I guess?” She shrugged as I
felt a blaze of frustration burn in my veins. She took the bread from my hands
as I set the bag on the counter, deciding to check on Charlie (or scold her for
doing laundry with a sprained wrist), yet before I could, I was distracted by
what felt like a trailing of a finger on my back.

Jackie’s hand gripped my shoulder, and a
second later, her breath was hot in my ear, “How can I help you?”

There was so much more than a friendly
offer to make sandwiches within her tone. It made my skin crawl. I brushed her
hand off, reaching into the bag to grab the brick of cheese.

“Nothing. I can manage.”

She hopped up onto the counter, her
rear about six inches from where I was laying out the plates. She crossed her
legs toward me.

Wow…she
sure is determined.

“Ya know, my girlfriend Francesca dates
a fireman,” Jackie began.

“Hmm…that so.”

I started slicing the cheese, hoping
that my obvious disdain for her would speak for itself.

No such
luck.

“Yeah, she has plenty to say about it,
too,” she cooed.

Within a second, her foot that was
nearest to me was on my hip…and traveling quickly.

That’s when I was done playing nice. I
set the knife down and grabbed her foot—hard. She seemed stunned by the change of
events.

I looked at her square in the face. “Jackie,
you seem like a smart girl, and I appreciate whatever help you might have
offered Charlie today, but
this
,” I
said gesturing from her to me, “is
never
going
to happen. And when I say never, I mean the kind of
never
that parallels a snowstorm in August, or the end of Elvis
impersonators in Vegas. Is that clear enough for you?”

I let go of her foot as she stared at
me, opened-mouthed.
Had no one ever told
the girl no before?

There was a first time for everything.

“Fine,” she hopped off the counter and
grabbed her purse, “You can tell Charlie she can have you. I don’t do
leftovers, anyway.”

I would
bet otherwise.

I heard the front door slam about five
seconds after she passed me—her last sentiment was a gesture that she showcased
on her hand for me, quite dramatically I might add.

Hope the
door doesn’t hit ya on the way out—

My attention was immediately diverted
when I looked up again. Charlie was standing in the hallway, only a few feet
away.

Suddenly, I was nervous.