Back To Us (7 page)

I shook my head and sighed. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. You scared the shit out of me.”

By the time Justin got back, my brother was dressed and pretty much back to normal. Mike finished his bagel and coffee and went in his room, probably to call Mel.

“You don’t need to stay,” I said to Justin. “It looks like my brother has made a full recovery.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to hang out a little longer?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s okay.”

There were no regular taxis that drove around my neighborhood, so I called a service to come and get Justin. They showed up about fifteen minutes later. I walked Justin outside. “Thanks for coming,” I told him. “Looks like I owe you,
again.”

“No. You don’t.” Justin brushed back some stray hairs that had fallen in my face. His touch was unexpected, and made me feel that crazy fluttery feeling in my chest that I knew meant bad news or me. “See you Monday?”

I nodded and Justin walked away. I waited until his cab was out of sight before going back inside. My brother was still in his room talking to his girlfriend. Suddenly I had an urge to get out of my apartment. I needed some air, having four walls around me felt suffocating. It was another hot day, but I didn’t really care. My mind was too busy trying to process everything that had just happened, but the more I tried, the more frustrated I became. I walked towards the Fulton Street Mall figuring that the crowds and the stores would be a good distraction. It was about a twenty-minute walk from my house. I didn’t have enough money for a shopping trip, but that didn’t keep me from being able to browse.

By the time I returned home a few hours later my brother was gone. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the weekend, which I prayed meant that he and Melanie had made up.

On Monday, after arriving at work, Mrs. Connor came looking for me. She had a list of activities planned for the next two weeks that she wanted to talk to me about.

“We had a lot more sign-ups for the museum trips than I anticipated, so we’ll have to go in two different groups. This week we go to the Met, and next week to the Museum of Modern Art.”

It sort of surprised me that so many of the kids wanted to go on the trips, but I liked the idea of getting out, so it was fine with me. On Tuesday, me, Mrs. Connor, Justin and a handful of kids met in the gymnasium before making our way to the train station. I watched Justin as he walked in front of me. Even in eighty plus degree weather, Justin still had on pants. It seemed weird because he had the type of job where it was actually okay to wear shorts.

Justin turned around and I looked away before he could catch that I’d been staring at him. I weaved my way through the crowd until I was sure Justin couldn’t see me. He called my name to get my attention, but I pretended I didn’t hear him. We hadn’t talked at all since he’d left my apartment on Friday and with my worry over Mike out of the way all I could think about was the way Justin had looked at my apartment. I felt too embarrassed to have a conversation with him. Not that it mattered—we worked together so it was sort of inevitable, but I could put it off, or at least I thought I could. It turned out I was wrong, halfway down the block Justin caught up with me.

“Hey,” he said putting his hand on my arm. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t hear me calling your name?”

“Over all this noise?” I said, covering. I didn’t want him to think I was purposefully avoiding him.

Justin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “God, it sure is hot out here.”

“If you knew we’d be going out in this heat, why didn’t you just wear shorts?”

“I don’t like wearing shorts. Can’t get the ladies to stop staring at me when I do.”

“If you do say so yourself.” Without fail, Justin knew how to make me smile and laugh. He could turn anything into a joke.

Justin might have been joking, but I didn’t doubt that what he said was true. Sometimes when Justin stood close to me and looked at me I felt like reaching out and brushing my fingertips across the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose and cheeks. There was something magnetic about him, and it wasn’t just the way he looked that made him that way. He had a soft, tender side that I found incredibly appealing.

On the train Justin and I sat beside each other. “So how’s your brother doing?” he asked.

“Good. You saw him. Once that medication wore off he was totally fine.” I felt a need to justify my brother’s carelessness. “I know you might not really believe this, but most of the time my brother is a totally cool guy.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve done plenty of stupid things in my life.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” Justin insisted. I wasn’t buying it, though. Although after he said it I realized there was a lot about Justin’s life I didn’t know and now that I had his attention it was a good time to ask more questions.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yup, two brothers, no sisters.”

“You must be the baby.” I wasn’t sure why I thought he was.

“Actually, no. I’m the oldest. My brothers are a few years younger than me. They’re both in college and. . .I’m the loser big brother who’s still at home with his parents.”

This time it didn’t sound like he was joking. “I’m sure that’s not how your parents see it.”

The train screeched to a sudden stop slamming me into Justin. My body pressed against his. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” My face felt flushed as I realized that I’d noticed how strong his chest felt and how good he smelled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, as I scooted back towards my seat. I wiped my forehead with my palm. “So do you get along with your brothers?” I asked.

“Yeah. We get along. I don’t see them very often. Jeff, he’s the middle one, has a girlfriend that he’s always with, and James just started college last year so he’s busy enjoying his new found freedom.”

I wanted to keep talking to Justin, but we’d arrived at our destination and keeping a group of teenagers quiet in a museum was harder than I thought it would be. That explained why Mrs. Connor wanted to bring the kids in two smaller groups rather than all at once. I pictured myself the way I was just four years earlier, the age that most of the kids with us were. It was crazy how much I’d changed. Four years ago I was so angry at the world. Sometimes I still was, but nothing like I had been then. I couldn’t imagine myself signing up to go on a trip like the one we were on, but if I’d gone, I probably would have been making jokes and acting stupid. Now I looked at the art hanging on the walls of the museum and found myself appreciating it.

It was either the field trips, or the knowledge that summer was more than half over that made the next two weeks pass by too quickly. I found myself willing time to slow down. Come the end of August my job would be over. I’d miss the kids and Mrs. Connor—and Justin. Maybe we’d keep in touch for the next few months, but eventually I predicted our friendship would fade. Brooklyn was too far from the Upper East Side, and with me back to a full schedule of classes and Justin still working full-time at the community center I doubted either of us would find the time to hang out. If he was interested in me, now was the time for him to act, but he didn’t, and with each day that passed I was beginning to lose hope that he ever would.

On our last museum trip I noticed something was quite right with Justin. He walked funny, his slight limp more pronounced than usual, and I would’ve sworn that I noticed an expression of pain pass across his face a few times while we were walking.

“Basketball injury?” I asked.

“What?”

“You look like you hurt your leg.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t just his limp that caught my attention. Justin was quieter, less conversational than he normally was. But it wasn’t until he didn’t show up for work the following week that I realized something was wrong. By Wednesday I finally broke down and called him, but he didn’t pick up his phone. By Friday, when he still hadn’t shown up for work or returned my calls I tried texting.

Everything all right?

I was surprised and relieved when he replied.
Yes

Where have you been?

Vacationing in the Bahamas – don’t tell Mrs. Connor though, she thinks I’m sick

Next time you’re bringing me

Deal

I spent the weekend looking forward to seeing Justin on Monday, but he didn’t show up. Whatever was wrong with him it had to be bad, he’d missed over a week of work, that wasn’t like him. I was going through some serious Justin withdrawal. It was awful how badly I wanted to see and talk to him. I knew eventually he’d be back, but when? In the evening before I left for home I went to look for Mrs. Connor and found her in her office.

“I was wondering if you’ve heard from Justin.”

“I have,” she said, without looking up from her desk.

“He’s been sick for over a week. Is he okay?”

“It’s not my place to talk about Justin’s medical problems.” I took that as Mrs. Connor’s polite way of telling me to mind my business and didn’t bother her with any more questions. But Justin was on my mind as I rode the train back home.

I called him later in the evening, but he didn’t answer. He stayed on my mind most of the evening and by the time I went to bed I’d formed a plan. On my way to work I’d stop at his place first with breakfast. I’d tell him it was repayment for all the favors he’d done for me. I had his address written down on a piece of paper somewhere, so I knew where he lived. With my plan to see Justin perfected, I fell asleep with the look I anticipated on Justin’s face on my mind. He’d be surprised, but I felt fairly confident that he’d be happy, too.

I stopped for bagels and coffee on my way to Justin’s feeling pretty good about my plan until I saw the doorman standing in the lobby of his building. If he announced my visit, it wouldn’t be the surprise I wanted it to be. Luckily, sneaking past the doorman turned out to be no big deal, and I was able to get onto the elevator without him noticing. As the elevator zoomed to the top floor my heart pounded in my chest with the anticipation of seeing Justin, and his smile, and the way it made his eyes sparkle. For weeks I’d been trying to talk myself out of whatever feelings for him I knew I had, but every day that got harder and harder to do. The past week at work had sucked without him there, and made me realize I wanted him in my life.

I rang Justin’s doorbell and waited for him to answer, but no one came to the door. The piece of paper with his address on it that he’d given me just before the Fourth of July was crumpled in my pocket. I reached for it to make sure I was at the right apartment. I rang again and wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts as I waited for him to open the door. My heart sank as I realized that he probably wasn’t home. Maybe he wasn’t sick at all. Maybe there was another reason he hadn’t been to work.

I rang the doorbell one last time and finally heard someone.

“Don’t tell me you forgot your keys again.” It was Justin’s voice, I was sure of it. “You’re always forgetting those damn things, you know how hard it is for me in this stupid thing.”

The door swung open and on the other side of it sat Justin. In a wheelchair. Instead of the sexy legs he’d bragged about before were two stumps. He was an amputee, a double amputee. That explained a lot of things. Like why he always wore pants and why he’d been limping. It was the injury that ended his military career, not PTSD like he claimed. Or maybe it was that, too, because if I’d lost both my legs in combat I was sure I’d be pretty messed up in the head.

It was too late to erase the shocked look from my face. Justin had already seen it. Before I could think of the right words, actually any words to say, Justin slammed the door shut.

“Go away,” he said from behind the closed door.

“Justin. C’mon, please just open the door.”

“I said go away.”

I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I had to find a way to make things better, a way to let him know that his injury didn’t matter to me. He didn’t need to be embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what to do. It dawned on me that if Justin locked the door I was pretty sure I would have heard a click. I reached for the knob, twisted it and opened the door. Justin sat in his wheelchair a few feet away with his hands covering his face.