New Life (7 page)

“A date?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “No shit. With
who?”

It didn’t help my self-confidence that two of
my family members seemed shocked by the idea of me managing to land
a date. “Just somebody I met.”

“Hah! I knew it,” she crowed.

“What?”

“That you’d be back to your old self
eventually. You were always a player. The only steady girl you ever
had was Chrissy, and you managed to screw that up.”

“Why? What happened?” I’d almost forgotten
about meeting Lisa and uncovering another piece of my past.

“I don’t know. You probably cheated on her.
Anyway, you two broke up. I liked her too. She was nice to me. Gave
me fingernail polish one time.”

My mind scurried like a confused mouse in a
maze. Thoughts of Anna, Chrissy, my cousin Kyle, and my dad
careened into one another, jagged little bits of thought that
wouldn’t settle into place. I badly needed rest, but the movie
theater wasn’t the place for it.
Bloodsuckers
was not a
restful movie—stretches of whispered conversation and suspense
music were punctuated by loud action scenes. I kept dozing off,
then jerking awake. When the movie wasn’t startling me, Katie would
with a punch in the arm.

“You’re
missing
it! Berrien is about
to ascend to the vampire throne. Watch!”

By the end of the two-hour-plus
blood-and-gore fest, my head was aching worse than ever and my
thoughts were as scattered as a flock of birds frightened by a
shotgun blast.

Katie was all smiles as we left the theater.
“Did you like it? It was even better than the first two. Thanks for
going with me.”

“It was a lot of fun.”

She looked at me. “You look like crap. You
should take a nap or something before you go on your date.”

Great advice, but the movie had gone long,
and now I had no time.

I gave Katie a hug, then walked to the
nearest stop and waited for my bus. I’d studied the routes to make
sure it would take me where I needed to go. I was dozing on the
bench when the bus arrived and nearly missed it. With no time left
to go home and change, I went straight to the Jukebox Joint to meet
Anna.

A couple of transfers along the way added
extra time, plus I missed one of my stops and had to backtrack.
Before I reached the club, Anna texted to ask if I was still
coming.

Running late. Sorry
. I added,
Had
to wait with little sis for her ride home.
That should earn
points with her.

After I got off the bus, I struggled to
figure out whether I needed to walk east or west to get to the
place. Just as I started to head one way, I heard my name called
from behind me. I turned and saw Anna heading toward me, her hair
golden under the streetlights and a smile lighting her face. My
growing anxiety eased.

“Hey,” she greeted me. “I thought I should
meet you at the bus stop. The club is kind of hard to find.”

Had she noticed me walking the wrong
direction? She must have. But anyone going to a new place might get
turned around.

“Sorry I’m late. I promised to take my sister
Katie to the new
Bloodsuckers
movie, and I couldn’t get out
of it.”

“Any good?” She stood a few feet from me, and
a hint of her perfume wafted to my nose.

“Loud and long. I used to love that kind of
action flick, but not anymore.”

“Me either. A lot of flash and no substance.
I don’t mind an action movie if it’s got a great plot and
characters I can care about, but just to watch a bunch of special
effects and cardboard-cutout characters—nuh-uh.”

She looped her arm through mine, a casual
gesture that felt very date-like. My heart beat a little
faster.

“I hope you like this place,” she said. “The
music’s good, and I love the styles some of the serious rockabilly
types wear. Skinny ties and fifties jackets. Big skirts with
crinolines. Very cool.”

“Am I dressed all right?” I looked down at my
standard T-shirt and jeans. I’m not very imaginative when it comes
to clothes.

Her eyes scanned me slowly from head to toe,
searing my skin. “You look fine to me. Roll a pack of cigarettes in
your shirtsleeve and slick your hair into a duck tail, and you’ll
fit right in.”

I blinked.

“Kidding! Come on.” She escorted me through a
doorway above which Jukebox Joint flickered in hot pink neon
letters.

****

If I’d known more about Jason’s disability
and the signs when he’s overstressed, I would’ve realized
immediately he was too exhausted to go out that night. But at the
time, I didn’t know much about his issues, like how crowded places
are sometimes more than he can handle, and breaks from his usual
routine are hard for him to adjust to. I didn’t know he’d already
had a full day at his dad’s birthday party dealing with a bunch of
relatives, or that he had a raging headache and a sore hip. He
didn’t tell me.

That evening, I was simply excited to turn
him on to the music and dancing at this club I’d discovered shortly
after moving to Columbus. I thought I was just dragging a rather
shy guy out of his comfort zone and making sure he had a really fun
time.

The dance floor was already jammed when we
arrived. Couples two-stepped to a slower number. When the band
really got wailing, they’d be jitterbugging like it was 1955.

I glanced at Jason to see his reaction to the
scene. His eyes flicked around, taking in guys with pompadours and
shiny lapels, women in bright red lipstick and matching red high
heels, skirts whirling around them.

I yelled over the music, “Cool, huh?”

He nodded.

“Want a drink?”

We pushed our way to the bar. Along the way,
I introduced Jason to a few people I knew by name. We stood in line
for quite a while before we were served, and by the time we found a
free table, I noticed Jason’s limp was more pronounced than usual.
He sank onto the chair.

I leaned over the table. “You doing okay? You
seem kind of tired.”

“No. This is great. They’re amazing.” He
indicated the dancers whirling around the floor.

My feet were itching to join in, my heel
tapping along with the beat.

“Can you dance like that?” he asked.

“I’m okay. The great thing about this place
is that you don’t have to be experienced. There are newbies and
professionals all mixed together. It’s a lot of fun.” I glanced at
his right leg, which stuck straight out beneath the table. “Do you
think you’d like to try a slow number? Nothing fancy.”

“Maybe in a bit.” He sipped his drink.

I looked at the dance floor and wondered if I
should’ve picked someplace else for our date.

A guy I vaguely knew suddenly grabbed my hand
and pulled me up from my seat. I looked over my shoulder at Jason
and gave him a helpless shrug before the guy twirled me onto the
crowded floor. I’d be back at the table after one dance. It wasn’t
as if I was abandoning Jason for the night.

My partner was way out of my league. As he
spun me in and threw me out, at one point even tossing me up into
the air, it was all I could do to keep up. By the end of the
number, I was gasping for breath and grinning. I’d forgotten how
much fun this was. After spending too much time in my apartment
recently, it felt good to be out dancing.

I started to make my way back to my table and
Jason, but he wasn’t there. I figured he’d gone to the restroom, so
I decided another dance couldn’t hurt. This time I joined several
women. We twisted and shimmied and sang along with the chorus of a
song we knew.

When it ended, I checked on Jason—still not
back in his seat. It occurred to me he might have been more annoyed
by my ditching him to dance with some other guy than he’d appeared.
I didn’t see his dark shock of hair anywhere in the room, so I
grabbed a guy heading into the men’s room and asked him to see if
my friend was in there. I waited outside, impatience growing, until
the man emerged.

“Some guy’s puking in one of the stalls.
Could be your date,” he said.

Great. Thanks for your concern
. I
pushed through the door and into the stink of the restroom.
Luckily, nobody was at the urinals. The sound of retching came from
behind a stall door.

“Um, Jason?”

There was a long pause. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

The toilet flushed, and the door opened.
Jason stepped out, face pale, dark hair matted to his damp
forehead. He went to the sink, rinsed out his mouth and splashed
water on his face.

I handed him paper towels. “You’re sick.” I
stated the obvious.

“Naw. I get these migraines sometimes. It’s
nothing.”

“Well, you need to go home and lie down.”

“I’ll be okay now.” He looked at me with
those somber eyes. “I don’t want to cancel our date.”

“Not canceling, only postponing,” I assured
him. “I’ll drive you home, make you tea or something.”

He frowned. “You don’t want to park your car
in my neighborhood.”

He was probably right. “Nonsense. I—”

The door opened, and a man entered the
restroom. “Hey. Whoa.” His gaze flicked from me to the urinals as
if checking to make sure he was in the right place.

“We’re just leaving.” I put my hand on
Jason’s back and propelled him from the room.

“If you were feeling crappy, I wish you’d
told me,” I said when we were outside the restrooms.

“I really wanted to go out with you
tonight.”

He looked down into my eyes just as someone
shoved past and knocked me into him. I felt the warmth of Jason’s
body pressed against mine, the heat sizzling in our locked gazes,
and even though he’d just thrown up, I was inclined to kiss him.
But he looked away, breaking the moment of tension.

I seized his arm. “Come on. I’m taking you
home.”

Jason let me guide him outdoors. A breath of
cool air made me realize how stuffy the club had been. No wonder
the poor guy had gotten sick. I was touched by how hard he must
have fought to appear okay when he felt like crap, all because he
wanted to be with me.

“My car’s only a couple of blocks away. Can
you walk that far?”

“Yes. I told you I’m okay.” He pulled away
and stalked stiffly by my side.

Okay, a little male ego happening. I could
tell he was embarrassed and my fussing was making him think he
appeared weak. I could be cool. Pretend nothing had happened.

“So, tell me more about your little sister.
What’s her name again?”

“Katie. Today I got to learn more than I ever
wanted to know about the horror of being a middle school girl.
Sounds like everybody except her is a catty bitch.”

I chuckled. “I remember those days. You’re
in, then you’re out, then you’re back in again and somebody else is
on the outs. Worst years ever. Like walking on hot coals every
day.” I gestured to my car. “Over there.”

Jason stumbled as he stepped off the curb,
and my hand shot out to steady him, but I pulled it back,
remembering his pride. He balanced himself with a hand on the roof
of the car. I unlocked the passenger door and waited for him to
climb in.

As I walked to the driver’s side, I thought
about the unexpected direction the evening was going. There was a
lot about Jason I didn’t know. If I was going to see him more than
this one time, if we were going to continue going out, I needed to
know more about the extent of his problems and what I was getting
myself into.

It was time to get a few answers from Jason
about both his condition and the accident that had caused it.

Chapter Seven

I felt like some drunk slumped in the corner
of Anna’s car, leaning my head against the window while she drove
me home. But I wasn’t drunk. Hadn’t had a chance to do more than
sip my vodka before the churning in my stomach reached epic
proportions and I had to bolt to the john. I should’ve known better
than to add alcohol icing to the cake when I was already feeling
ill. Now Anna would think I was truly pathetic. She was seeing me
at my worst.

Well, maybe not my worst. There’d been much
lower levels in the early part of my recovery, temper flares,
crying jags, and giving up to lie in a fetal ball. Anyway, now she
knew some of my warts, but I would’ve preferred she not see them on
our very first date.

I straightened. “So, how’s your new dog
doing?”

“She chews. I’ve had to puppy proof the
apartment, and even then she managed to destroy one of my favorite
pairs of shoes, a couple of area rugs, and the leg of my couch. I
couldn’t leave her caged all day, so I hired a walker who takes
care of a lot of dogs in my building. But one walk every afternoon
didn’t seem like enough, so now she’s in doggie day care,
socializing with friends.”

“Sounds like you’re being a good mom.”

“I hope so. I never had a pet when I was
young and always wanted one. Now I kind of understand why my mom
said it was too much work.” She glanced over at me, her face
illuminated by the headlights of a passing car. “How about you? Did
you have any pets growing up?”

“A beagle named Skeezer. By the end, he was a
fat, blind, farting lump, but nobody had the heart to put him
down.”

I remembered the squirmy pup he’d been when
we brought him home compared to the arthritic mess he’d become. How
could I have such clear memories of a family pet yet couldn’t
remember more important things—like whatever the hell had happened
between me and my high school girlfriend?

“I was at college when my mom called one day
to say Skeezer had died. But he’d had a good, long life, and it was
kind of a relief by then.”

A sudden sharp spear of sorrow stabbed
through me, and tears prickled my eyes. Oh Jesus, not now. After
waking from the coma, I used to fall apart easily. Now those crying
jags were rare, and I was better able to control them. I closed my
eyes and waited for the melancholy to fade. It wasn’t really the
memory of good old Skeezer that haunted me, but an aching sense of
loss of myself, my past, my future potential, and many other
things.