New Life (11 page)

“I’d like that. Sunday is best for me. Once
I’m finished on Friday evening, the building’s pretty much
unoccupied until Monday. I just do a few extras on the
weekend.”

“Do you work through a janitorial service or
on your own?”

“Through a service. But your building is
pretty much mine. My supervisor checks with management now and then
to make sure everything’s up to their standards. I haven’t had any
complaints. Not recently. At first, I’d forget things, but I’ve got
that under control now.”

It was too easy to forget that Jason had
issues other than physical. I glanced at his profile and the angry
red scar. “Will your memory keep improving?”

“Brain injuries are all different. Usually
once you earn back a skill, it’s there to stay, but sometimes
things slip away again, so they tell me.” He looked at me. “I’m
never going to be what you’d call ‘normal’ again, you know.”

“What’s normal? The last guy I dated, Tim,
had some OCD-type behaviors you wouldn’t believe. We’ve all got
quirks.”

“I’m quirkier than most.”

Other than his halting speech, I hadn’t
witnessed much odd behavior. But just then something happened to
illustrate the point. We’d reached the head of the line and placed
our sandwich orders. I offered to buy, but Jason refused.

“I can pay.”

Understanding from his tone that this was a
matter of his pride, I backed off. I wasn’t about to have an
argument over twenty bucks. The cart guy gave a total, and Jason
offered a debit card.

“Sorry. I only take cash.”

Jason took out several bills and handed them
to the man.

“You still owe five forty-five.”

Jason fumbled with his money, seeming
uncertain about the denominations or else how to add up the total
amount. I focused my attention on a nearby flock of pigeons. I
wouldn’t embarrass him by intervening, but I wished he’d let me
pay. I listened as the vendor eventually extracted the right
currency from Jason.

As we walked away with our food, he said, “I
usually use my card. Money doesn’t make a lot of sense to me
anymore. See, I told you—quirky.” He handed me my wrap.

I liked that he let go of his pride and let
his sense of humor take over.

“Not a big deal,” I said, but I wondered how
he managed to pay bills on his own and how often he got ripped off
in situations like the one with the vendor.

We resumed our seats on the park bench and
unwrapped our sandwiches. Pigeons flocked around us like red-eyed
zombies ready to pounce and devour us.

“Look at this guy over here.” I pointed to a
blue-gray pigeon. “He’s got a Hitler moustache thing going on.”

“Eat fast. I think he’s planning to
attack.”

It was true. The Hitler bird strutted right
up to the toe of my shoe and stared at me with an evil glint in his
eyes.

I kicked at it. “Shoo. Go away.”

Another bird alighted on the bench beside
Jason and pecked at the empty bag. The soft warbling coos of the
flock sounded more sinister than soothing. Dozens of pairs of eyes
watched our every move.

“Maybe eating in the park wasn’t such a good
idea. We’re surrounded.” I took a bite of my delicious Jamaica wrap
and hurriedly chewed and swallowed.

A man in ragged clothes with a backpack on
his shoulder wandered by, sending a ripple of movement through the
flock of pigeons. “Hey, Jason. Whassup?”

Jason nodded at him. “Not much.”

The man didn’t stop to chat but headed toward
the group of homeless people, mostly guys, who hung out at the
south end of the park.

“A friend?” I knocked the Hitler pigeon away
with my toe when he began pecking at my shoe.

“Kinda. I hang out with those guys
sometimes.”

I glanced at the men clustered near the
fountain and considered that tidbit. The guy I liked hung out with
the city’s homeless, one more indication that Jason’s life and mine
were light years apart. I didn’t mean to be snobbish about people
who’d fallen on hard times, but I couldn’t help feeling weird that
Jason was close to them.

Jason glanced at the loiterers and raised a
hand in greeting. “They’re not all alcoholics or drug addicts, you
know. Okay, most of them have substance abuse problems and police
records…and mental issues, but aside from that, they’re pretty nice
people.”

“I never said they weren’t.” I drew my legs
underneath the bench to escape Hitler.

“You didn’t have to.”

There was no response I could give, so I
dropped the subject. “Maybe we should walk while we eat. I’m
getting a little freaked out by these birds.”

The brief flare of tension subsided as we
walked and ate and chatted about the most recent episode of a cop
show we both watched. The sun dappled the path before us in light
and shadow, and strolling along it with Jason was romantic in a
cheesy romcom flick kind of way. I liked being with him. I liked
him
. I wanted to hold hands, but mine were still full of
Jamaica wrap.

Even after we’d thrown the remnants of lunch
in a trash bin, we still walked side by side without touching. The
back of my hand grazed the back of his, and I thought he’d slip his
hand into mine, but he didn’t. Neither did I. We were both a little
awkward and unsure of where we stood with one another.

“Shoot, what time is it?” I checked my watch.
“I’m going to be late for my meeting if I don’t go back right now.
Sorry.” I looked up into Jason’s eyes, and my stomach did a little
barrel roll. Kind of an extreme reaction to a simple meeting of
eyes. “I’ll see you Sunday, then, at the dog park? I’ll text you
directions.”

“Sure.” The timbre of his voice vibrated
through me, making all my girl parts tingle. His smile set off a
flutter too. I was crushing way too hard on somebody who was wildly
inappropriate for me.

Chapter Eleven

Like I said, changing my routine is hard for
me, and I had to work out a new sequence for how my date with Anna
would go. I reviewed what bus I’d take to get to the dog park,
where the station was, how much change I’d need in order to ride. I
even wrote a list to refer to in case I got confused. My therapist
called the process “repatterning.”

I’d done all these things before our first
date. Of course, that evening hadn’t gone according to plan yet
ended up better than I’d ever expected.

I kept on track as I went to meet Anna that
Sunday, got on the right bus, gave the right change, then stood
because all the seats were full. I checked the dog’s name in the
planner on my phone. Baby. Right. I could remember that.

As I rode, I ran through possible scenarios
of how the day might go. We’d play with the dog, maybe stop for a
bite, then go our separate ways after a few hours. Or, Anna might
offer to drive me home. Maybe she’d come up to my apartment, and
we’d fool around again. Then I remembered she’d have the dog with
her, so maybe we’d go back to her place instead. She might make me
dinner, and I’d stay late watching a movie. We’d start to make out
during the movie and end up in her bed. Fantasizing “maybes,” I
almost missed my stop and had to dash to the front of the bus as
the driver was pulling away from the curb.

I entered the fence of the dog park and
searched for Anna and—what the hell was her dog’s name again? As I
started to check my notes, I heard my name called, and there she
was, walking toward me.

Anna was always pretty, but in that moment
she was achingly beautiful. The sun streaked her hair with gold,
and the breeze wafted it around her face. Her eyes shone, and her
smile actually hurt to look at. The fall day was warm enough to go
without a jacket, so she wore a light blue tank top and cropped
pants. Her bare arms and legs and neck were slender and oh so sexy.
She held a red leash in one hand. At the end of it, a
scruffy-looking terrier strained and panted.

“Hi. You made it,” she greeted me when she
drew close.

As if I would have stood her up. Hah! For a
moment, I was tongue-tied and couldn’t put two words together. I
dropped to a squat in front of the dog.

“Cute…” Boy? Girl? I couldn’t remember. “Cute
dog.”

Anna knelt too and ruffled the dog’s fur.
“Yeah, she’s my baby.”

Baby,
that was its name. I held my
hand out, fingers curled so Baby could sniff me and decide whether
she wanted me to touch her, but the pup wasn’t shy. She thrust her
head against my fist, begging for attention. I scratched between
her ears, and she dropped belly up on the grass. I rubbed her
stomach.

“She’s so adorable I can’t stand it.” Anna’s
voice went high and girly as she gushed over her new pet, but I had
to admit the pup
was
pretty damn cute.

She unhooked the leash from the dog’s collar.
Immediately, Baby was up on all fours and bounding around us.

“She reminds me of…” One of those vivid
flashes filled my mind. It was my birthday. I could taste the cake,
smell the blown-out candles, feel soft fur and a warm, wiggling
puppy. “Reminds me of when we got our dog. He was my birthday
present.”

“Sweet. I bet you never forgot that
birthday.”

We followed Baby as she darted down the path,
stopping every few feet to sniff spots other dogs had marked and
then leaving her own piss stamp.

“How was your week?” Anna asked.

“Normal.” I tried to think of one interesting
thing I could tell about, but unless she wanted to hear how I
bravely unclogged a toilet, there wasn’t much to say. “What about
yours?”

“I lost my car keys and had to make a new
set. That made me late for an important meeting, which didn’t look
too good. But otherwise I guess I’m doing okay. They haven’t fired
me yet.”

“Do you worry about being fired?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Most of the time
I know I’m doing a good job, but other times I feel like I’m
skating on the edge and one mistake will put me in the reject
pile.”

“That’s a lot of pressure. Is your firm
putting it on you, or are you putting it on yourself?”

She punched my arm. “Okay, sensei. I don’t
need analysis today. I’ve always been an overachiever. I know I’ve
got issues about success.”

“Everybody’s got issues. Except these guys.”
I nodded at other people’s dogs chasing each other across the
grass, nipping and playing like the pack animals they were.

“Uncomplicated,” Anna agreed. She grabbed my
hand. “Come on. Let’s run.”

We raced after Baby toward the throng of dogs
catching Frisbees and balls or playing tug-o-war with their
masters. That afternoon was golden. I’ve never forgotten how Anna
looked, red-faced from running, grinning and happy, completely at
ease and completely gorgeous. I wanted to chase her and tumble her
to the ground like the dogs were doing to each other, but had to be
satisfied with tossing a Frisbee back and forth while trying to
teach Baby to fetch it.

My bum hip ached by the time we stopped to
buy a drink from a cart, but I couldn’t have been happier. I put my
hand on Anna’s waist as we walked and, a moment later, felt her arm
slip around my back. This was an honest-to-God date. Something I’d
been afraid wasn’t going to be a possibility in my post-accident
life.

“So, what do you think?” Anna asked as we
sipped icy lemonade. “Want to come to my house for dinner? I’ll
grill.”

My heart leaped at her casual invitation.
“Dinner. Sure. That’d be great.” My earlier fantasies of dinner
evolving into a make-out session kicked in.

“Are you ready to go home, Baby?” She clipped
the lead back on the pup’s collar, and she immediate surged
forward. I limped beside them down the path. Shouldn’t have run
after that Frisbee so much because now my hip was threatening to
lock up.

Anna glanced at me with a concerned frown.
“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I tried to walk less like a gimp. The
last thing I wanted was her sympathy—again. What I really wanted
was to kiss her. A lot. And to have sex. A whole lot.

When we reached her car, it was a relief to
ease into the passenger seat. I shifted until I found a more or
less comfortable position for my leg. Anna put the dog in the back
seat, but Baby immediately sprang over to the front and curled up
on my lap.

Sliding behind the wheel, Anna eyed her mutt,
who gazed innocently back. “You are so bad. I’ve got to train you
better, or you’re going to be out of control.” But she left Baby on
my lap.

It was nice holding a dog. I ran my fingers
through her wiry coat and looked out the window at the traffic
flashing past. I felt a little disoriented as I tried to think of
something to say. Then I remembered Dr. Gorman’s advice:
When in
doubt, keep quiet
. Thoughts had a way of going from my brain
straight to my mouth with no filter, so to keep from telling Anna
exactly what I was thinking—that I’d like to be inside her right
now—I opted for the more appropriate option of silence.

“My place isn’t too far from here,” she
filled the quiet. “I have some chicken marinating. You eat meat,
right?”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” I glanced at her
forearm, the muscles flexing slightly as she gripped the wheel.
Fine hairs caught the sunlight. I wanted to reach out and run a
finger over her arm to see how soft her skin felt. I started to
lift my hand before I caught myself and pulled it back.

“My parents are coming to visit this month,”
she said.

I remembered her comment about trying to live
up to their expectations. “You looking forward to seeing them?”

“I am.” She paused, then said it again.
“Really I am. I do miss them. Of course, the moment I’m around
them, they drive me crazy, but it will be good to see them.” She
sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.

“What do they do to drive you crazy?”

“Little comments and suggestions,
passive-aggressive stuff that sounds innocent but is pointed. Or
maybe I’m being overly sensitive and imagining those barbs.”