Progress (Progress #1) (5 page)

I dozed off once or twice, but the paranoia that I could’ve been snoring woke me. It was restful and serene. At one point I got so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot he was next to me.

Yet every time I glanced over, the whites of his eyes glimmered with the reflecting water.

“You saved those frogs,” he said quietly just as the sun was beginning to rise. The chirping was much quieter by that time, but I knew they were there.

I smiled, knowing he couldn’t see me, and a small sense of pride bubbled inside of me. “Nah, I didn’t do much.”

“Yes you did. You should be proud of yourself. They couldn’t exist without you.”

I looked over at his shadowed face just as he turned his head away from me.

“Let me ask you something…” he said suddenly, sitting up.

I cringed. “Okay.”

“Why are you still here with me?” he asked.

I had a few reasons, though I wasn’t sure which answer to give him.

When I didn’t speak right away, he added, “Because I’m not going to fuck you.”

I shot up, sure I was about to slap him. “Well that was charming,” I snapped.  I got to my feet and felt the rage as far down as my toes. “I have no intentions of fucking you either! And I’ll have you know that I’ve never had a boyfriend, never dated, none of it. So before you make any more assumptions about who I am or why I’m here, consider this: why are
you
still here with
me?
Perhaps you’ll find your answer there.”

I tried to get back to my car as quickly as possible, fighting off the tears. Why state the obvious? No one would ever touch a monster like me.

There was so much more I wanted to say to him, but I could never let him see how much he hurt me.

I pulled the keychain from my purse, and with my hand shaking, I shoved the key in the door. When I heard the crunching of footsteps behind me, I whirled around to face him. My eyes were filled with tears, but I refused to let one drop.

Staring at the ground, he jingled his keys in his hands. He appeared hurt and ashamed; that little boy inside of him who knew he’d done something wrong, but didn’t know why.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He took a small step toward me. My fingertips went numb and I forgot to breathe. I flinched away from him and my chin quivered.

But that time, I’m pretty sure he noticed.

“It seems you’ve got enough problems of your own,” he said, his eyes flickering from my breasts to my hips and back up again.

“What do you mean by that?” I whispered.

He shook his head, then slowly but chastely kissed my cheek. “You’re a big girl, Charlie. You figure it out.”

My hands dropped to my sides as my shoulders slouched. He walked away from me, down the sidewalk, until I could see him no longer.

Chapter Five

Charlie

My nerves were shot. Eating was no longer a priority, and my restlessness served as a bundle of energy that needed burning off.

Day after day I exercised. I’d wake and exercise. After work I’d do it again. And sometimes in the middle of the night I’d play the DVD yet again in the hopes that it would exhaust me enough to sleep.

I stopped eating almost altogether, the only guaranteed meal being my morning coffee.

Sleep was erratic at best. If I wasn’t in bed by midnight, chances were slim that I’d get any sleep at all that night. I’d had anxiety for most of my life, but nothing quite compared to what I was going through.

A few afternoon shifts passed, and I still hadn’t seen Jesse. But the words he’d said continued to swirl around, festering in a cycle of What Ifs.
“You’re a big girl, Charlie,”
he’d said.
“I’m not going to fuck you.”
My mind always had a way of twisting the facts.

It was over a week before I saw Jesse again, but there were seldom times he wasn’t in the back of my mind. The nervous energy he created fueled my need to rid myself of it. Exercise was the quickest way to calm myself down.

I woke on a Wednesday after only three hours of sleep, showered, and dressed as usual.

Parm and Pepp Day
was the day of the week designated to washing and refilling the parmesan and pepper bottles at every table. Normally the task wouldn’t be grueling, but it required me to be at the restaurant an hour earlier than normal.

The restaurant was quiet. Two prep cooks and the manager were the only ones there at that hour of the day. After organizing racks that held the clean bottles, I filled each one, dumping the glass containers into the bucket of parmesan and setting them on a tray.

My stomach growled, but I paid no attention to it as the slight tremor of my hands distracted me.

“You look different today, Charlie,” Adam said, walking through the kitchen. He held a large box that he fumbled to keep steady. “Is it your hair?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing is different.”

He eyed me for a second too long, and I tried to busy myself with the task before me as he walked out to the dining room.

My stomach turned again, and then a slight tickle came. It wouldn’t be long before the anxiety attack hit me in full force. I cracked my neck from side to side and concentrated on my breathing as I paced slowly from one side of the kitchen to the other, holding an empty container.

Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I closed my eyes and let it out slowly, keeping the attack at bay. When I opened my eyes again, I stood in front of the bulletin board where the employee schedule was tacked up.

My eyes instantly searched out his name. I felt like a total stalker. Still, taking a peek wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps knowing whether or not he’d be there that day would help me calm down.

Jesse Anders. Delivery. Wednesday. 11-1pm.

“You still mad?” My heart fluttered at his voice, and with my jolt of surprise, I dropped the glass container to the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces as I faced him.

“I wasn’t.” I took a deep breath, trying to pry my eyes from Jesse’s smile.

He snickered and set his balled-up uniform down on the counter as he walked to the pantry for a broom and dustpan.

“Quit making me apologize, Red. Sounding sincere isn’t one of my strong suits,” he said, scooping up the glass with a wink.

A wink?

I scratched my forehead, mumbling my thanks, and got back to my parmesan.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, emptying the glass into the garbage. His demeanor was way too soothing for the way we had departed at the park. All smiles. Conversation flowing naturally. No contemplative expressions. Every quiet noise in the kitchen seemed to float away with one look in his direction. My hands stopped trembling and my heartbeat slowed.

“You said something the other night that had me thinking,” he began, closing the distance between us in two wide steps. “You’ve never…” He trailed off and looked at me expectantly, as though it were up to me to fill in the gaps. Hell if I could figure out where his mind was going. He was a hard guy to keep up with.

I tilted my head to the side. “I’ve never what?” I prompted.

“You know?” he smirked, tugging at his lip. “You’ve never been with
anybody?”

Oh.

That.

Nothing like starting the morning with a big fat glass of awkward.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I looked around the kitchen to make sure no one was near. With a shrug, I looked down and away.

“Really?” he asked, seeming amused. “I find that hard to believe.”

My head jerked up, and a deep furrow pinched my brow. “How so?” What was he getting at?

His expression hardened and he swallowed. “Never mind.”

***

“Hey, table fourteen just asked me if I could check on their food. Are you helping them?” Jesse asked later that afternoon during a sudden lunch rush.

Frenzied, I gathered the takeout boxes from the counter. “Yep. Got it here. Thanks, though.”

“Hey.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and my arm ignited with his touch. The sensation flew through my core until it finally churned in my belly. I had no idea what I’d come to the kitchen for to begin with. “Calm down,” he added. “What can I help you with?”

I took a deep breath and waited for the strength in my knees to return before responding. I thought back to minutes earlier and my memory sparked. “Bring fourteen their food. Twelve needs two Diet Cokes, and twenty-three needs a bread basket. Rae is really in the weeds and there are two parties waiting to be sat.”

“I got it.” He smiled and tugged on my apron string. “Take it easy. Go seat them.”

I nodded and started to move away just as Jesse slapped my ass. Maybe he was trying to be funny—playful, even. But I didn’t like it. It made me want to puke. I removed my apron and greeted the customers in the lobby with a bright red face and a scowl.

Once the rush ended and Rae gained control of her tables, Adam walked toward the lobby to look at the seating chart.

“Can I take a smoke break?” I asked.

He nodded and licked his thin lips.

Yuck.

“Sure, Charlie. Whatever you need.”

I got outside as quickly as possible and lit a cigarette. Taking the first drag, I inhaled like no other before it. The sky was blue and small clouds wisped through, looking like feathers. It was chilly enough outside to feel a reprieve from the thick humidity inside the restaurant. I’d been sweating since noon.

The door flew open, hitting my foot.

“Ouch!”

Jesse peeked around the corner. “Oh, uh. Sorry. What are you doing after work today?” He stepped out and took my cigarette from my hand.

Apparently, to him, we’d arrived at the point in our friendship where we were comfortably sharing the same cigarette. I must have missed that milestone.

“Going home, taking a shower, and relaxing. You?” I said.

“I was going to go for a ride…”

“A ride?”

“Yeah. Wanna come with?”

I eyed him skeptically. “Depends. What are we riding?” I tried not to think of the sexual implication in my question.

He smiled. “A bicycle.”

“Nope. No. Sorry. I fell off a bike as a kid. They’re not really my thing. At all.”

“C’mon, Red. You gotta get back on someday.”

“Why? Why is this mandatory when I can live a calm and peaceful life without it?”

He rolled his eyes. “A personal motto for you?”

So cryptic.

“I’m not riding a bike again, Jesse. Period.”

“Fine. No bike ride today.” He took a drag from my cigarette and handed it back to me. “But I’ll get you back on a bike someday if it kills me. How about we go for a drive, get some lunch maybe?”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hide my smile. “How will Christy feel about that?”

He cocked his head to the side and huffed out a laugh. “Christy will be just fine.”

I nodded hesitantly. “Fine. Where are we going?”

He opened the door. “I’ll drive us,” he said over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

***

After changing into a wrinkled outfit I had stashed in my car, I sat at a booth in the bar until Jesse was cut from his shift. It wasn’t much more than ten minutes before he joined me.

“Hey, I have to run home quick and change. I smell like a pizza. You can come in and wait. I’ll only be a minute,” he said.

Knowing I’d get to see where he lived conjured up a strange nervousness. It wasn’t unwelcome, though. Still, no matter how many sour keys were struck, I couldn’t help but notice that he was much more warm and receptive than he had ever been before; the air between us was less awkward. So I swallowed my fear about any motive he might have had to get me back to his place, and followed him out to his car.

The small Honda was guaranteed to give me a cramped ride. No thirty-six-inch inseam would ever approve of such a car. The silver-blue hue of the body was dull and spotty, and the front right panel was black, indicating it had been replaced at some point due to an accident. The thing had to be almost twenty years old.

We hopped in, and with a slight seat adjustment I found I had more room than I thought I would. His hands worked swiftly over the stick shift, and I gripped the handle on the door tightly as he raced to the highway. Before I could blink, he had us heading south, away from The Cities.

The stereo blasted a quirky tune that I didn’t recognize. My appreciation for music went beyond what most would’ve considered normal. My right and left brain argued over it constantly. Different instruments muddled my logic, making me not able to decipher how it was created. And when I sat back and tried to forget about it, I felt too much from its lyrics. My body would quake at the emotions it conjured. It was best if I stayed away altogether.

But his music was different. Light. Simple. A reggae of sorts, the song had a fast tempo fused with strange guitar distortions.

“What are we listening to?” I shouted over the music, my knuckles turning white from the grip on the handle.

He turned down the volume. “They’re called Less Than Jake. Third-wave ska. Love ’em. You like?” he asked, holding an invisible drumstick and hitting the dash.

“Amazingly enough, I do. It doesn’t give me a headache.” I smiled, and glowed with anticipation of the afternoon. His mood definitely helped lessen my apprehension, as I hadn’t felt that calm with him since I’d first laid eyes on him. My anxiety had been replaced with deep breaths and quiet thoughts. “How many waves of ska are there?”

He smiled so wide that a small dimple appeared. He clearly appreciated my question. “Just three.”

We pulled off the highway, and within seconds he turned into a driveway. The house wasn’t far from mine, and I recognized the neighborhood. The simple home was two stories, brown with white trim. The screens were dirty but the landscape was clean. A short brick wall segregated the mulch from the grass, and two trimmed lilac bushes flanked both sides of the front door.

“You want to come in, or do you want to wait out here? I’ll only be a few minutes,” he asked, taking the keys out of the ignition.

I’m too curious to pass this up.
“I’ll come in.”

I followed closely behind. He jogged up the steps to open the unlocked door, and the aroma of bacon hit my senses followed by the distinct smell of men’s cologne, aftershave, and Irish Spring soap. Clean and masculine. The small entryway was uncluttered and inviting, and the split-level entry garnished a wooden banister on both stairwells. The steps down led to nothing but a closed door, and Jesse quickly ran upstairs to an open space.

At the top was a living room and kitchen. An open window blew the curtain sheers elegantly, and faded green wallpaper covered two walls. The kitchen cupboards were painted white, and the countertops an old vinyl with dirty dishes littering their surface.

“It’s big. I thought you’d be living in an apartment.” I said, but Jesse had disappeared up another short flight of steps to a narrow hallway.

“Make yourself at home! There are cups in the cupboard by the sink and pop in the fridge!” he yelled down.

I circled the room, looking at photographs of people I didn’t know and generic wall art that told me nothing of the man who lived there. The bookshelf held classics like
Tom Sawyer, Great Expectations
, and
Moby Dick
. I had to remove one to make sure they weren’t just a façade of cardboard replicas.

I scanned the collection of books until I discovered a book that had tattered edges and a broken spine that had the appearance of being read over and over again.

How to Cope With Bipolar Disorder.
And another at its side:
Commonly Prescribed Medications, Interactions and Side Effects.