Random (Going the Distance) (15 page)

It’s only as she says this that I realize how depleted I feel, like someone pulled a plug on my toe and let all my energy drain out. Slowly I get to my feet, wishing I could hug Electra. Instead, I look at her pillow and blanket. “Thank you for staying.”

“Go on to bed. I’ll fix us a good country breakfast in the morning, how’s that?”

“Great.”

In my room, the covers are still all messed up from the scuffle. My book was knocked on the floor. I pick it up and put it on the table, then pull the covers back, shake out the sheet and smooth all the wrinkles out, and remake the bed from scratch. Sheets tucked in tight, bedspread folded down exactly right at the top, the blanket folded into thirds so that I can just grab it and pull it over myself when I’m cold in the middle of the night, and placed exactly in line with the bottom of the bed.

For a long second I think of Rick here the time before this one, brushing my hair. Did I handle this wrong? Should I have warned him or something? But how do you do that? If you don’t love somebody, you just don’t. It would have been even meaner in a way.

I feel guilty and angry and sad all at once. I take off the yoga pants and t-shirt I was wearing and put clean pajamas on, then fold the covers back neatly and climb in and rest my hands on my tummy. The streetlight is still shining through the window, making a rectangle on the ceiling, and I can imagine Rick at the foot of the bed again, scaring the shit out of me if you want to know the truth, and tears leak from the sides of my eyes. My chest hurts, and I can’t close my eyes.

After fifteen minutes of this I turn the light on and pick up my book. It’s a historical romance about a girl who has to be fitted for a gown for a ball and she runs away. I run away, too, into that world, and in a half an hour fall fast asleep.

Chapter THIRTEEN

A
knock on the door wakes me the next morning. Sun is pouring into the room by the bucketful, which means I slept really late. I remember that Electra spent the night, but when a second knock sounds I get up and see that she’s gone. I peek through the curtains to see who is at the door, worried that it might be—

But it’s Tyler, looking like a hip ad for Breckenridge—jeans and pale green t-shirt, his brown and blond hair shining in the sun. He has a cup of Starbucks in each hand and a book tucked under his arm.

I rush to the door and open it. “Hey,” I say, blinking at the sunshine.

He looks stricken. “Oh, baby, what happened?”

Electra suddenly appears behind him. “What’s your business, boy?”

He swings around with a bewildered expression. “I just brought her some coffee.”

“Okay with you, Jess?” she asks me.

“Yeah. Electra, this is Tyler. Tyler, Electra McKinney, my neighbor.”

He makes to shake her hand, but the coffee he’s carrying prevents that, so he lifts his chin. “How do you do, Mrs. McKinney.”

“Ms.”

He lifts his chin again. “Ms. Got it.”

“Breakfast is ready any time you are,” she says, then turns to Tyler. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, Electra,” I say. “I’m just going to get a quick shower.”

She nods and gives Tyler a hard look over her shoulder.

He raises his eyebrows my way.

“She watches out for me.” I swing the door open. “Come in. I do need to have a quick shower. Do you want to have breakfast with us?”

“Sure.” He hands me a coffee. “Did I get it right?”

I take a sip, and it’s one of the six most delicious things I’ve ever had in my life. “Perfect.”

“I brought you a book, too.” He takes it out from under his arm and hands it to me. It has a cover made of blocky shapes. The author’s name is Mary Oliver. “It’s poems I thought you might like.”

I can’t think of when anyone has ever brought me a book before. I press it to my chest. “Thank you, Tyler. Seriously.”

He’s eyeing my mouth, which I can feel is really swollen. I’m sure I look like a clown. “What happened?” he asks again.

“Rick showed up last night. He used his key to get in the middle of the night.”

I’ve never actually seen someone blanch, but every single fleck of color drains out of his face. “He did this? Did he—”

“No, no. No rape or whatever it would be.”

“Rape is when you say no and somebody goes ahead anyway.”

I think of the anger in Rick’s hands, the way he wielded his dick like a weapon, something he wanted to use to hurt me, not give me pleasure, but it makes me feel vulnerable. Too vulnerable. Irritated, I snap, “Look, I need five minutes to have a shower and then you can get all indignant, ok?”

“Sorry, I—” He lifts a hand as if to touch my face, then drops it. “I tried to call, but you never picked up. I guess you were still asleep.”

“Or my phone is trashed.” I point to the pieces.

“Fuck,” he says. And again, “Fuck,” very quietly. He looks at me, and his eyes are blazing with fury, making the tropical water shade even more intense. Bright patches of colors slash across his cheekbones. “I’m going to take a little walk while you shower.”

“I don’t want to leave the front door open.”

He halts. “Of course.” He holds himself still, but he might as well be vibrating. “I’ll wait right here.”

“Thanks.”

I pull some clean clothes out of my drawers and take them to the bathroom. It’s sort of a joke, because there’s not really any room in there to get dressed, but I’m determined. I stand by the little sink on the bathmat and wiggle out of my pajamas. In the shower, I scrub the night off of me and wash the sleep out of my eyes, trying to keep my hair dry. My shoulder is kind of sore, and I see there’s a star-shaped charcoal bruise on my breast from whatever was on Rick’s jacket. It’s dark purple and ugly, and I feel slightly sick as I think of his rage and hunger. I should have handled the breakup differently. Maybe he wouldn’t be so crazy if I’d given him a chance to—

To what? Try to convince me that we should stay together?

Soap stings my mouth, and I taste blood. Maybe I’d needed a stitch. Damn it.

Wrapping a towel around me, I peer at myself in the mirror My mouth is swollen and clearly cut, but lips heal fast. The bruise from the fight at the club is mostly gone, though I can still see the yellow smear under my eye. Will it interfere with the interview I have lined up at McDonald’s today?

I hope not.

It takes some flexibility to dry off and get dressed, but I manage to scramble into a tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Carefully I brush my teeth, seeing pink in the suds I spit into the sink. When I’m done, I hang the towel up and carry my brush into the other room.

Tyler is facing away from me, his shoulders rigid. I can only see the side of his face as he looks down at the broken phone in his hand. I step up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right.”

He swings around and gathers me into his arms, bending his face into my neck. “I want to kill him for hurting you. For coming in and scaring you, for—”

“I’m okay, I swear.” I put my hands in his hair, letting him hold me tight against him. He wraps his arm around my waist, while his other hand cups my head, pressing me close. I’m almost dizzy with relief, with the feeling of his body against mine. A huge welling sense of rightness washes through me, like maybe I
have
known him in another life, or maybe I was just waiting for him to show up in this one. It feels like glue seeps out of our pores and seals us together in some invisible way. The smell of his skin whispers over my senses, and our bodies fit exactly right.

He holds me fiercely for long moments, then presses his mouth against my neck and lets me go. “I guess your neighbor is waiting.”

I smile. “She’s a good cook. You’ll be glad.”

He stares at me, touches my lip lightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

* * *

After breakfast I ask Tyler to wait at my place while Electra and I make the phone call to the landlord, but he opts for the garden instead. I don’t want him to know I’m so broke that I have to juggle the rent, even if he probably suspects.

But we can’t get him, and Electra leaves a message. My stomach boils as I think about the lock and the rent that’s due.

She hangs up the phone. “I’ll pay for a new lock. You can pay me back whenever.”

I shake my head, standing up and rubbing my palms on my shorts. “That’s ok, Electra. Really. It’ll be fine.”

“Sweetheart. Sit down.”

I sit.

“You might not know it to look at me now, but in my day I had some trouble with men. What’s happening to you is a man being crazy and some bad luck. I don’t mind helping you a little here and there.”

“It’s more than a little.” I think about what might have happened if she hadn’t heard me yelling last night. “Way more.”

“We’re friends, sugar.” She smiles. “That’s what friends do.”

For a minute longer I hesitate, but honestly, what else can I do? “Thank you.”

“I’m not calling them out here on a Sunday, I’m sorry to say, but we’ll make sure you’re all right for tonight. You can sleep here, or—” Her eyes drift toward the door, where we can see Tyler in the garden, sunglasses emphasizing his cheekbones.

“What do you think of him?” I ask.

She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes clear. “He’s a good man, I reckon. He’ll treat you right.” She purses her lips, like she’s keeping something back.

“What?”

“You’re from different worlds. Don’t get hurt.”

I nod, heart sinking a little because I know she’s right. “I’ll do my best.” I salute her. “I better go get a phone now. Thanks for everything, Electra.”

“You’re welcome.”

I skip out and Tyler is waiting by his car, a troubled expression on his face as he looks at my house.

“You ready?” I ask.

“This house is not the safest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s fine.”

He must hear something in my voice, because he opens the door and gets in. “Let’s get you a decent phone, shall we?”

I nod. “I just need to grab my bag.”

“Bring the book I gave you.”

At the phone store, there’s a little tussle between us when the guy shows me an iPhone, which I can have for free since I’ve never had a new phone on the account. Ever. But I want a basic model, much newer and nicer than the one I’ve been using, but with no expensive data plan. “I just need to text and talk. Nothing else,” I say firmly.

“What about the Internet? You could get on with this one,” Tyler says.

“I can do that at the library. For free.”

He eventually shrugs and wanders off to look at cases. I sign for the phone, feeling weirdly excited. “It’s not a flip phone!”

The guy blinks. “You had a flip phone?”

“Crazy, right?” He hands me the new one, programmed with my number and contacts. “That’s so cool.” An icon shows up on the bottom with 4 in a red circle. Another has the number 16 in red. “What’s that?”

“Voice messages and texts.”

For a second I feel sick, thinking they’re probably abusive messages from Rick, but of course he went to jail last night. I’m sure he’s still there right now.

The guy shows me how to access them, and I listen, standing there in the store. One is from Tyler. One is Henry, this morning. One is McDonalds, confirming our interview today. The last one is from Sam. At first I have no idea who Sam is.

“Hi, Jess. This is Sam, and I’m calling to let you know that I do have an opening finally at the Musical Spoon. You can start as soon as tomorrow if you want. Give me a call.”

A sense of relief and happiness blooms through me. I look over at Tyler, and he smiles, very slowly. He’s had something to do with this, and I wonder if I ought to be more independent.

But you know, I’ve had plenty of bad luck and challenges. I’ll take the help. I drift over to him and stand on my toes and kiss him. Gently. “You know already that I got on at the Spoon, right?”

“I might have heard.”

“Thank you very, very much.”

“You’re a good server. They should be thanking
me
.”

“Right.”

He takes my hand and weaves his fingers through mine. “We have the whole day. What do you say we get a picnic and drive into the mountains? I know a lake that’s great.”

“I have to make some calls first.”

“No worries.”

“You should have told me to get a swim suit.”

His eyes glitter. “You won’t need one.”

“I am not going to go skinny dipping in an ice cold lake.”

He just smiles.

* * *

I call Sam to accept the job. He’s very nice on the phone, and we make arrangements for my training and all that. Then, with more than a little relief, I call the woman at McDonalds to tell her I have landed a job. She’s also really nice, thanking me for letting her know I wouldn’t show up.

On our way out of town, Tyler stops at a grocery. We wheel around the aisles with a cart, and I wonder if people are noticing us. Wondering about him. About me. Tyler buys a pile of food: bread and turkey, cherries and cookies and Izze peach soda at my request. It all goes into a cooler with ice in his trunk, where I see blankets and pillows, too. “You planned this?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go, but I was hoping.”

It warms me.

The drive is beautiful, up into the high country under bright blue skies. There’s a great stereo system in the car (of course) and Tyler tells me to choose a playlist from the phone plugged into it. I scroll down, not recognizing a lot of what’s on there. “Do you have pop songs?”

“Not really. We can listen to the radio if you want, though.”

I look at him. “This is like the books, right? Only important music? Hip music?”

He gives me an abashed smile. “Maybe.”

“Okay, what do you recommend, then? Something a girl with pop tastes might enjoy.”

“Who do you listen to?”

“Pink. Mumford and Sons. Adele.” I think about it. “Ed Sheeran lately, too.”

He purses his lips. “Pretty good taste.” He points. “Find The Decemberists.”

The music starts, and I smile. “This.”

“Yeah?” He smiles at me and opens the sunroof so wind whips into the car and the sun pours down on us from that crazy blue sky. I catch my hair in a twist and hold on, and the car holds on to turns like it’s on tracks, so I’m never afraid when we whip around the high curves, climbing and climbing. At one point I look out over a view of mountains in all directions, the peaks sharp and jagged, some even with snow on them still. I don’t feel like I have to talk—I just lean back and enjoy it. A sunny day, a hot guy, and I have a job.