Interrupted (The Progress Series) (17 page)

“I’ll think about it, okay? Just don’t worry about me. I’ll figure out something.”

“I will worry—”

“Don’t. Nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I gotta run now, but we’ll talk soon.”

“Love you, Jess. Call me if you need anything.”

“You too, Lil.”

He hung up his phone and walked over to the boxes stacked in the corner. He paused to look around the room again. Glancing down at the phone still in his hand, he dialed and brought it to his ear.

“Four-one-one, city and state, please?”

“Rye, New Hampshire.”

“What can I look up for you?”

“Rick’s Pawn Shop on Main.”

“Here’s that number for you.”

Jesse strummed his fingertips on the glass counter and tried to stay patient as Rick ran the numbers.

“The best I can do is fifteen hundred.”

Jesse shook his head. “No way. This set is worth over four thousand.”

“Sorry, kid. It might have been worth that much ten years ago, but I gotta consider how many people are gonna come to this town to buy it, too. It’ll probably sit here for a few years before I even get a bite.”

Jess scratched the back of his head and folded his arms across his chest. He nodded his head and turned toward the door. “Thanks anyway.”

“Okay, fine! I can do eighteen hundred.”

Jesse stopped. “Two thousand?” he said, turning around.

“Fine. Fine. Two thousand. Final offer.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back within a week if I’m interested.”

He walked out of the store and straight into the bar across the street.

*

Pulling up a stool, he tapped on the counter twice. The bartender knew Jesse’s sign for a highball of Jameson.

“Back so soon? Didn’t think I’d see you so early in the day after your birthday celebration last night,” the bartender said, placing the drink on a coaster in front of Jesse.

Slamming it back, Jesse closed his eyes as he shook off the burn. “It wasn’t my birthday. Give me another, will ya Kenny?”

Kenny nodded and set the bottle next to the empty glass.

“You sure you want to do this today, Jesse?”

“Oh, I’m positive,” he said, trying to keep the tremors at bay while he poured himself another glass.

“Man, why are you still in this town? There ain’t nothin’ here for you anymore. No jobs until the spring. You’ve burned every bridge with every woman in town, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger,” Kenny said, as gently as he could.

Jesse slammed the glass back to swallow and poured himself another, not responding to the bartender’s words.

Wincing at what he imagined the whiskey tasted like, Kenny tried again. “Look, I’d give you a job myself if I thought you could handle it. But you’ve gotten into too many fights around here. You aren’t everyone’s favorite in this town—”

“You think I give a shit? You think I care what anyone in this armpit of a town thinks of me? Wrong, Kenny. Besides, it’s not like this is new for me. I’m hated everywhere I go. So, just keep pouring your whiskey and refilling your nuts, and leave the thinking to me.”

Jesse took one more shot and tossed the empty glass at Kenny, who caught it and glared.

“Nice catch,” Jess said, lifting his brow and winking. He threw a twenty on the bar and walked out.

*

The beach was gray that day—the sky, the water, all of it varying shades of pewter, silver and black. Taking a run on the beach, Jesse slowed as he realized his energy was depleting quicker than ever before. He stopped to rest, panting and bending over with his hands to his knees. Catching his breath, he stood and looked straight out to the water.

Staying active was something he had tried to maintain. After he pawned his bike three weeks earlier, it was getting harder to keep his thoughts in check. Things were always a little easier to handle when he was riding or exercising, as it distracted him enough to concentrate on one thing at a time; his paranoia and obsessive thoughts weren’t as difficult to manage.

Directly in front of him were a lighthouse and a small fishing boat just off the rocky coast. The ocean had carved a bay into the landscape and the beach curled around so that the boat was at a distance. The small lighthouse sat atop an island and the waves were crashing in around it.

A piece of driftwood that had washed ashore caught his eye. His eyes squinted and he tried to adjust his focus, making sure they weren’t deceiving him. He started walking toward it and everything else around him vanished. His pace quickened until he was running toward it in full force. He crashed down to his knees and desperately scooped the wet sand around it, prying it from its position. Dipping the wood into the ocean to wash it off, he ran his fingers over the surface and smiled.

It’s perfect.

Jogging back to his apartment, towing the piece of wood under his arm, Jess ripped the door open and ran to the bedroom closet.  He carefully unwrapped the unfinished project that he had stowed away until he had found the right piece. He compared the three legs of the table to the wood he found on the beach and another smile spread across his face.

I can finish it. The grain is perfect. It matches the other three legs and the base. I can finally finish this.

After letting the wood dry for a few days, he couldn’t wait any longer to assemble it. He got to work in his small apartment, hand-sawed the wood to the perfect dimensions and carefully drove the screws into place. Sanding, polishing—everything had to be perfect. The end result was a coffee table that he had made with his own two hands.

This was the first time in longer than he could remember that he felt proud of something he had accomplished. This small project that he started and was able to see through to the end was enough to help him sleep that night.

*

It had been six months since he’d slept a full eight hours.

“Hey, Lily,” he said when she answered the phone.

“Jesse? Wait. Is this Jesse Anders?”

“Um, yes.”

“No. This can’t be the Jesse I know. You see, he never calls me.
I
always call
him
. And, whoever you are sounds a hell of a lot better than the Jesse I spoke to last week. So, who is this, really?” she said sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed.

“Oh, Jess. You sound so much better. Did I just hear you laugh? I haven’t heard that sound in almost two years.” Jesse heard her exhale.

“I’m thinking about coming home. But I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of. Do you think I could stay with you for a bit?”

“Of course you can. Whatever I can do to help.”

“I’ll call when I’m on the road. It will probably be a week or two.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. I don’t like you being so far away.”

For the third time since he arrived in
New Hampshire, he smiled.

*

Putting in his notice for his apartment, getting a change of address from the post office, and packing up a few belongings that he’d be able to shove into his car occupied his morning. At noon, he headed out to get some lunch at the café in town—the same place he had gone every Friday afternoon since he arrived.

Choosing the familiar booth near the window, he sat with the menu closed and waited.

A tall, red-headed waitress walked up slowly, smiling and shaking her head.

“Back for more, huh?” she said.

“What can I say? Your biscuits and gravy are the best in town.”

“Uhm hmmm…right. They’re the
only
biscuits and gravy in town. And you don’t fool me, Jesse. You barely eat anything, anyway.”

He shrugged, never turning away from her eyes.

“So, why do you come here every week? I don’t think you fancy any of the girls around here, otherwise you would have made your move already. I’ve heard what people say about you around town—” she said, seemingly looking for him to confess.

He clenched his jaw and nodded. “I’m sure I’ve heard it, too.”

She nodded and reluctantly changed the subject. “Your regular order, then?”

He paused. “No, not today. Do you guys make patty melts?”

“Sure, we can.”

“Yeah, one of those. And a cherry Coke.”

“Oh, a
cherry
Coke today, eh?” she said.

His eyes moved up and down her body and his stare seemed to arouse her. He could feel her sexual intensity as her cheeks flushed.

“Anything else then?” she asked, biting her lip.

He hadn’t heard her words and he gave his head a slight shake. “What?”

“Tell me something, Jesse. Why do you always stare at me like that? Every week you come in here and you look at me like, like I’m some sort of oil painting. I’ve never, in my thirty years, had a man stare at me like you do. Do I remind you of someone?”

He scratched his chin and his mind retreated. “No. Go away now,” he said, waving his hand, shooing her away.

Her eyes widened in shock at how inconsiderate he was and she slowly turned to walk toward the kitchen.

His knee began bouncing under the table and he felt uneasy again. He attempted to keep his thoughts away from Charlie. The last time he let himself mourn her, he had become fixated and almost drowned.

Pull your shit together. This is the final test. If you pass, you can go home and face her.

The waitress returned with his soda, without a smile.

“Wait, come back,” he said.

She turned and lifted her eyebrows. “Something else you needed?” she asked sharply.

“Yes. Please,” he said, extending his hand out to gesture to the seat across from him. “Please, join me. I’d like to ask you a question.” He followed it up with a seductive smile, which was evidently all it took.

She grinned and looked around. Cautiously, she took a seat.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

Her answer was a shy smile.

“Good. It’s a date, then. I’ll pick you up here at the restaurant around seven.”

*

That afternoon he returned to his apartment and packed his car with his drum set. He brought it to the pawn shop and collected his two grand for the trek home.

“I don’t think I know your name,” he said as the waitress got in his car, bringing a rush of air in with her.
Jesus, she’s even wearing Charlie’s perfume.

“Jolene. Hey, what happened to your car, anyway? It looks like someone keyed it. Not to mention that you have a completely different color passenger side door.”

He put the car into first gear and stepped on the gas. “Girls can get pretty crazy sometimes.”

She laughed as he drove them The Lobster Shack for dinner.

*

Sitting down at the fanciest place in town (complete with white cloth napkins and a fire burning in the fireplace), Jess ordered a bottle of wine.

“You like Merlot?” she asked.

“If it has alcohol in it, it’ll suffice.”

She giggled. “Well, it’s my favorite.”

“I know it is. I overheard you talking to another waitress last Friday. See, I’ve been paying attention,” he said. He lifted his water glass in a toast. She smiled and lifted her glass. “Oh and Jolene, I was choosing the perfect time to make my move. I was just making sure you had noticed me, too.” He clanked their glasses together and licked his lips just before taking a sip.

“You don’t seem so bad. I don’t know what all the girls in town—” She stopped herself.

He set his glass down just as their server brought their bottle of wine and took their orders.

“You were saying?” Jesse said with a crooked smile.

She cleared her throat, hoping he had forgotten that she had mentioned the other girls he had been with. She giggled uncomfortably. “Oh, I’ve just heard some stuff, that’s all. What I really want to know is why you got fired from The Crimson Cellar last month.”

“I busted a customer’s nose. But that’s not a very exciting story. Tell me what the girls say about me.”

She laughed in astonishment. “I’ve heard a few stories, but mostly just that you’re crazy. You know, like insane crazy.”

“Well, that’s the problem with small towns, everyone thinks they know everything.”

“So, you’re not crazy?” she asked, lifting her eyebrow.

He hesitated. “No. Not crazy, but not exactly sane, either.”

She sat back in her chair and compassion filled her eyes. “You know, I studied psychology for a semester in college. Maybe I could help?”

He smirked, swiping his thumb and index finger across his bottom lip. He glanced up at Jolene, at first planning to make a joke of her words. But as her blue eyes stared back at his, his system jolted and his thoughts ran away about Charlie. Flashes and scenes of when he found her the most beautiful: her pink flush when she was embarrassed, the way she would gracefully stretch her back when she thought no one was watching, the dimple she’d get in the corner of her mouth when she was mad at him, and the few times she let her guard down and spoke to him about the things that mattered most to her.