Back To Us (9 page)

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“The way I see things there’s only one option.”

“What?”

“You’re sure you really do like him and that you’re not just feeling sorry for him?” she asked as if she were looking for confirmation that that wasn’t the case.

“I’m sure.”

“Then there’s nothing left for you to do but fight for him.”

Fight for him.

Mrs. Connor’s words rang through my mind the whole morning. I didn’t know how to fight for other people. I’d spent so many years fighting for myself that I didn’t think I had it in me to fight for anyone else. What if I lost? I didn’t think I could stand it if I did.

After I ran through all the reasons why I couldn’t put myself out there for Justin, my mind turned to all the reasons I could. He was worth it, I was sure of it. Maybe he didn’t have the same feelings for me that I had for him, but somehow I had to find a way to reach him. A way to chase away the sadness I saw in his eyes and heard in his voice, the same sadness I lived with, even if it was for different reasons.

During my lunch break I found Justin in his office. I didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead I walked right up to his desk.

“I thought of a way you could make things up to me for slamming the door in my face.”

“Excuse me?” Justin sat up straight in his chair and looked at me with an expression of surprise on his face. That was good. Maybe I’d get him to agree to what I wanted before he could think of an excuse to say no.

“You have to come to lunch with me. Pizza is my favorite, but I’ll let you decide where you want to go.”

“Jess.” He’d given me a nickname—that had to be a good thing. “I don’t think I’m up for much standing or walking yet.”

“We’ll take a cab, my treat. All we need to do is get you out to the curb. You can do that, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh come on, Justin. Don’t make me beg.”

“Okay.” He shifted in his chair and leaned forward resting his elbows on his desk. “On one condition.”

I frowned. “What condition?”

“That you tell me why—why all of a sudden you’re being so nice to me.”

“What are you saying? That I wasn’t nice to you before?”

“You’ve never invited me anywhere. I asked you to come to a barbecue at my house, you didn’t want to. Every time we’ve done anything together it’s been my idea.”

“What do you want me to say, Justin?” I was starting to get frustrated and my pride didn’t like the beating it was receiving from him.

“I want you to say you don’t feel sorry for me.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

Without another word Justin got up. I stood from my chair and the two of us walked together until we made it outside and into the taxi he hailed. A few minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of a pizzeria. We walked inside and ordered a pie to share. One medium pizza, just cheese.

“You sure you don’t want any toppings?” Justin asked.

“Nope. I’m not a topping person. Except for jalapenos, but we’re not at the right pizzeria for that.”

“I thought I was the only one who liked my pizza plain.”

Justin reached for his wallet. I pulled his hand away from his back pocket before he could get it out.

“Jess, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is. You don’t want me feeling sorry for you, well, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me either.”

I gave the cashier enough money for the drinks and pizza we’d ordered and Justin and I took a seat and waited.

“So since we decided we’re friends again, I thought we should agree on something,” I finally said.

“What would that be?”

“I think you need to start trusting me.”

Justin looked like he was about to choke on his soda. “I can’t believe you of all people just said that.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Sure I do.”

“Then why did you make me beg you for your address when you needed help with your brother?”

“You did not beg.” Justin gave me a skeptical look. I sighed. “Fine, I admit it. I didn’t want you to see my dump of an apartment. Especially after seeing where you lived.”

“You really think where you live makes a difference to me?”

“If you lived in my apartment, would you be inviting people over?”

Our pizza arrived before Justin could answer. I reached for a slice and took a bite savoring the saltiness of the cheese.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question,” I asked as I put my half eaten slice down.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Is the reason you’re living with your parents because of your legs?”

That faraway look that Justin sometimes got returned. He looked away from me and I patiently waited for his answer. “Yes,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry.” It was lame, but it was the only thing I could of to say.

“It is what it is.” Justin helped himself to a slice of pizza. The faraway look was gone, but so was his smile. I shouldn’t have asked the question. What was I thinking?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s okay.” Justin leaned forward. “There’s something I’m wondering.”

“What’s that?”

“How ever did you get past the doorman and up to my apartment anyway?”

“It really wasn’t that hard. You live in New York long enough without parents watching over you and you get smart pretty quickly. If I told the doorman I was going up to your place you wouldn’t have been surprised, and that’s what I wanted to do.”

Justin laughed. “You definitely succeeded.”

“I’m sorry I found about your legs before you were ready to tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was hard hiding it, and I was going to tell you, eventually. You just caught me on a really off day and interrupted my one-man pity party.”

“You have every right to feel sorry for yourself.” I reached for Justin’s hand and when he didn’t pull it away I felt a small ray of hope start to form.

Things between me and Justin seemed to fall back into place. We talked and hung out like we had before, but something was different. Something intangible, but still very real. Justin smiled less, he seemed preoccupied. I was hoping he’d get a clue and figure out that I wanted him to ask me out, but he seemed further from doing that than he ever had been.

I was running out of time. It was only another few weeks that we’d be working together, and then it would be too late. Mike was sure that if I asked Justin out he’d say yes, but it wasn’t something I’d ever done before, and I wasn’t sure I had the guts to do it. But Justin was worth it, I finally decided, so I spent the weekend rehearsing what I was going to say to him. Nothing sounded right. Eventually I gave up trying to come up with the right words and decided that once I was in front of him the words would just come to me. By Monday, I’d made up my mind about what I was going to do. I left for work early and stood outside the community center waiting for Justin. Almost twenty minutes passed before he showed up and I walked right up to him as he exited the taxi that dropped him off.

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I’ll tell you later. Can you wait in your office for me tonight?”

He furrowed his brow. What is this about?”

“You’ll find out later,” I said, and walked away before Justin could ask me any more questions.

The closer it got to the end of the day, the more nervous I became. I was tempted to pick up the phone and call Susan just to have someone I could talk to about what I was about to do. I hadn’t told her or anyone else that I was going to ask Justin out. Just in case he said no I wanted to save myself from the further humiliation of having to talk about it after.

At five-thirty I heard the click clack of Mrs. Connor’s heels as she walked down the hallway. As she walked by she saw me sitting at my desk.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting for everyone to leave so I could talk to Justin alone. Is he still in his office?”

“He usually says bye to me before he leaves, and he didn’t today, so he’s probably still in there.”

I stood, smoothed out the front of my dress and inhaled deeply.

“You look really beautiful today,” Mrs. Connor said before walking away.

The door to Justin’s office was open. He saw me approaching and motioned for me to come in.

I walked up to his desk, my heart pounded in my chest and my legs felt weak so I lowered myself into the chair beside me.

“So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I. . .I just wanted to ask you something.”
Keep it simple. And quick, to the point.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“So you and I have hung out a few times, and. . .I always have fun when we do and I think you do too. So I was kind of wondering if we could do it again. I mean hang out again, but not as friends, I was kind of thinking you might want to go on a date with me, like a real date. I mean not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, just a date and see how it goes.” I was blabbering on more than I had planned to and Justin just sat there with a stunned look on his face. When I stopped talking he looked away. My heart sank.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” The hammering in my chest made it hard to think.

Justin turned to face me. “You know I’m okay with us just being friends, I really am.”

“Right, okay. That was. . .I don’t know.” I ran my hands through my hair. His rejection felt more crushing than I thought it would. I felt like crying, but I was already embarrassed enough. No, not embarrassed, humiliated. Without thinking, I got up from my chair and tried to make my escape with the last shred of dignity I had intact. Justin reached across his desk and grabbed my wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“Let go of my hand.”

“Not till you tell me why you look so upset.”

Another wave of humiliation washed over me. I grabbed my hand out of Justin’s grasp. “What do you care?” I said, before bolting out of the door.

I was still angry when I got home. I slammed the door shut and stood with my back against it trying to process what just happened between me and Justin. I was too upset to eat dinner, but not too upset for alcohol. I opened the fridge, hoping to find some beers, but I was out of luck and slammed the refrigerator door closed just as my brother walked into the kitchen.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He sounded annoyed.

“Besides the fact that I’m a fucking idiot?”

My brother’s expression softened. “What happened?”

“I took your advice and asked Justin out.”

“He said no?” Mike asked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Not exactly.” I sighed and folded my arms across my chest. “What he said was that he was fine with us just being friends.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, J.”

“So much for your theory about him liking me.”

“Forget him. There’s a hundred other guys out there that would kill to be asked out by you.”

But none of them were Justin
. “You know what? I have to get out of here.” I grabbed my bag and ran outside. What I needed was to get enough drinks in me to forget what a total ass I’d made out of myself. If I asked Mike to get me something from the store he would have, but I just didn’t like asking him for things.

Half an hour later I showed up on Susan’s doorstep. One look at my face and she didn’t even bother asking why I didn’t call first. Instead she pulled me inside and I followed her up the stairs and into her apartment.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m such an idiot,” I said as I threw myself down on her couch.

“Oh God, don’t tell me you took that loser back.”

It took me a second to register what she was talking about. “What? No. Eww. I wouldn’t touch him again with a ten-foot pole.”

“Then what happened.”

“I asked someone out, and he said no.”

“Wait? What?” A shocked expression crossed Susan’s face. “You asked someone out? How come I haven’t heard anything about this guy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want to start dating again, but I really like Justin, and I figured that after I stop working at the community center I probably won’t see him that much anymore, so I felt like I needed to take a chance.”

“And he said no? What is he? Blind?”

“He’s not blind, and he didn’t exactly say no, but he might as well have.”

It was hard patching together a story for Susan without telling her about Justin’s legs, but I couldn’t tell her that part. Not because I thought she’d laugh or act weird, but it was Justin’s secret, and I still felt kind of bad for telling my brother and Melanie about it.

“Jesse, you’re really pretty. Maybe he just couldn’t believe that you could be interested in him.”

“I’m not that pretty.”

“Yes, you are. You have
the
perfect body and perfect hair, and that whole exotic “I’m not from America” look going on that guys love.”

“Well, maybe he’s into all-American girls,” I said, pouting.

Susan got up and went into her kitchen. A minute later she was back with two glasses in her hands, she handed me one.

“Coke?” I asked. I’d been hoping for another Smirnoff Ice.

“With rum, plenty of it, too.”