Something Like This (Secrets) (23 page)

I had told Reece the complete truth. I wanted our relationship to work. I was not going to be shy ever again. I was not going to hold back with him. With every other guy I had ever been with, I had always held back. I had kept my feelings to myself and never tried to fight for a damn thing. I either just walked out or I let them walk out and I never looked back. I never stopped to wonder if I was at fault, if I should have said something, done something. But with Reece, it was different. He brought me to my knees. He shook me up, woke me up, and made me feel again.

I’m always going to be just a little bit crazy, but I will fight for my place, for Reece, for a better life for myself—that much I know.

Reece sighed heavily. “Okay.”

“Okay to what? Just okay? That’s all you have to say?”

He sighed again. “Okay to it all. Okay to every single word you said.”

“Does this mean you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say thank you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do anything. It’s not going to be easy. You and me, we’re going to have some crazy moments. Some downright shitty moments. You’re dealing with stuff. I’m dealing with stuff. And I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to talk to you about him...about my father. I love you. If you stay with me, I’ll always love you. I’ll always be there for you. You can be crazy with me. You can act crazy, just promise me we’ll talk to each other...we’ll help each other. And maybe also promise me you won’t throw dishes every time we get in a fight.”

“I promise. I need you to hug me,” I said.

Draping me in his arms, he said, “I’m still a little mad at you.”

“I acted like an asshole, I know.”

“Not about how you acted.”

“Then what?”

“I didn’t get to eat a single plantain.”

“I could crash Lisa’s room and take them from her.”

“She probably ate them all. She deserves them.”

“I’m going to need to make this up to her. It’s a good thing I know what her favorite dessert is. Sherbet.”

“Yuck,” he said.

“Not a fan of it?”

“Nope.”

“Well all righty then, something else I now know about you,” I said.

“I think we might be ready for marriage. We know so much about each other.”

“Let’s work on getting our acts together first.”

“If you insist.”

I kissed him on the nose. “I should go talk to Lisa.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, but I think you should. Is that okay?”

“I get it. Operation damage control?”

“Pretty much.”

“Call me later?” he asked.

“As if you had to ask.”

He smiled. “Just making sure you’re still my girl.”

“I’m your girl.”

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

“Me, too. Now, go on, before I drag you to my bedroom again.”

“Hmmm...”

“Uh, uh, out,” I said, shoving him toward the door.

***

A
fter Reece left, I knocked on Lisa’s door. Grace hadn’t returned and I figured she was probably spending the night with Tom.

“Who is it and what do you want?” Lisa said.

“It’s Jadie, tonight’s jerk.”

“I know jerks. And you’re not one. Weird and slightly off your rocker? Absolutely. But a jerk, you’re not.”

“I have sherbet. Interested?”

“Maybe, what kind?”

“Rainbow.”

“I’m in.”

Her door swung open and there she stood, dressed in purple pajamas and purple slippers. In one hand, she held an empty plate.

“I’m really sorry for the way I behaved,” I said.

She put her free hand on her hip and tilted her head. “I was hurt. But, I’m over it.”

On the wall behind her, I spotted a painting of a woman outfitted in a yellow, 1920s drop-waist dress and bell-shaped hat, a long string of pearls hung from her neck. I’d never noticed that painting.

“When did you put that up?” I asked, pointing at the picture.

She spun around. “A couple of days ago. My grandmother gave it to me.”

“I like it.”

“I may start dressing like a flapper girl. My grandma thinks I dress like a slob,” she gave herself a look, “she’s kind of right.”

“You did wear yoga pants to dinner,” I said, grinning.

“Hey, they were my best pair.”

“Do you think Grace will forgive me?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Lucky for you, she’s sweet and forgiving.”

“I hope you’re right.” I lifted the container of sherbet in front of her. “Ready for some sherbet?”

“Hell yeah, let’s do it. But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re doing all the dishes—and also cleaning the wall and floor,” she said, pushing the plate into my stomach.

“How can I say no? So, what’s the verdict on the plantains?”

“Amazing.”

“For real?”

“Ate every last one,” she said, taking the sherbet container and darting into the hall.

––––––––

T
he next day when I got to work, I immediately went to see Tom in his office.

“Hey, do you have thirty seconds to talk to me?” I said, parked in his doorway.

He didn’t bother to look at me, keeping his back turned, his gaze on his computer screen.

“Tom? Yes, or no, can we can talk?”

Leisurely, he flipped around in his chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Last night. What else?”

He placed his elbows on his desk. “Fine, talk.”

“May I come in?” Clearly he wasn’t interested in talking to me.

“Have a seat or stand or do whatever you want.”

“Um, okay, I’ll stand.”

“Whatever works for you, it’s your world.”

Running my fingers through my hair, I said, “I’m sorry. I was a total bitch to you last night. I didn’t know you were coming over for dinner, and I guess I was pissed about it.”

“You can’t stand me that much? I knew you didn’t like me. You made that clear from the beginning. But, you
really
don’t like me. I get it. I’ll try and stay out of your way from now on.”

The pictures on the wall caught my eye. There was one of him kissing an older lady on the cheek, one of him holding a baby and another one of two little boys sitting on a porch eating ice cream cones.

“That’s my mom and me,” he said. “The baby is my nephew. He’s not a baby anymore. Turned four last month. The other picture is me and my big brother when we were six and eight. His name is Justin. He and his wife live in Germany. That’s where my brother is stationed. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years.”

“You ever visit him there?” I asked.

He stood and walked over to the picture of him and his brother. “He wants me to come. I may go for Christmas. Depends on how busy I am.”

The way he looked at the picture, I sensed sorrow—or remorse.

Meeting my eyes, he said, “When I first met you, I thought you were the saddest, most lost person I had ever seen. I also thought you were the prettiest.”

I looked away.

“I was disappointed when I found out you had a boyfriend.”

“Because you wanted to try and save me?”

“Maybe. Or maybe because what Mr. Walker saw in you, I also saw. Sadness, yes, but mega spunk and ambition. Lethal combination.”

“And now?”

“You have a boyfriend and it’s obvious how much you’re into each other. I have to ask you this, was last night about me or something else?”

“It was about you not taking what I have. It was about you not hurting my friend.”

“Grace?”

“Yes.”

He went around me and closed the door. Then he sat on his desk. “I like her. A lot. She’s a damn thunderbolt. I’m not going to hurt her. Other way around, she may end up hurting me.”

“You like her that much?”

“I do. She’s the sweetest most beautiful thing I’ve ever met. I can’t resist her.”

Sitting down in his guest chair, I said, “I still don’t trust you.”

“I don’t know what your issues are, what baggage you carry around with you. You’re not the only one dealing with stuff. You walk as if you’re all alone; as if no one else has shit they’re dealing with. I messed up at my other agency.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“So you can tell Grace? I told you I’m not going to hurt her. I swear it.”

“You better not hurt her.”

“I won’t.”

“Prove it by telling me what you did.”

He stood and faced the pictures on the wall. “I hooked up with a client’s wife, okay? That’s what I did. And when he found out, he threatened to sue the agency for damages, claiming that after he found out he was so distraught he couldn’t write anymore. I’m not an asshole. I messed up. Royally messed up. I made a mistake.”

“A big one. You slept with a client’s wife, what were you thinking?” Celeste had been right. He had most definitely slept with the wrong person.

“She came on to me. I didn’t go looking for her. She sought me out at a party my boss was throwing for his clients. That’s how it started.”

“How long did it go on for?”

“Two months, maybe three, I can’t remember. He caught us. A typical husband comes-home-early scenario.”

“And then?”

“And then it was over. She stopped seeing me, didn’t answer my calls or texts. I didn’t exist anymore. Funny, I thought she actually gave a damn about me. I thought so many stupid things. Like she would leave her husband and run away with me. Anyway, my old boss protected me and that’s how I ended up here. Are you going to tell Grace?”

It hit me that Tom had been the one who’d gotten hurt. He hadn’t done the hunting; he had been taken down by the neck and left on the ground, barely breathing, trying to recover from his wound.

I hopped out of my seat. “It’s not my place to tell her. It needs to come from you. But I meant what I said, you better not hurt her, cause if you do, I’ll come after you. I’m serious.”

“Understood.”

“I think we may be able to be friends, let’s not push it too quickly, though.”

“So, no double date tonight?” he asked.

I laughed. “Yeah, no, not tonight, but not a definite never, either.”

“Grace loves you, by the way.”

“How pissed is she at me? I haven’t called or texted her. I’m too scared.”

“She’s not mad at you, she just doesn’t get why you acted the way you did.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I until I did some serious soul searching. I’ll talk to her tonight when I get home. How’s her manuscript coming?”

“It’s not. She’s made zero progress, says she’s frozen. Will you help her?”

“I threw a greasy plantain slice at you. It’s the least I can do.”

“So, yes, then?”

“Yes.”

***

D
uring lunch, I visited the Cathedral. It was either that or go visit Elliott the bartender. Earlier in the day, as I was coming up the Metro escalators, I had spotted Lula on the down escalators. I almost called out to her, but decided not to because I wasn’t up for a long, drawn-out conversation and something told me she would have gotten to the bottom and then leapt right onto the up escalators to catch me.

I lit a candle for my father and even said a prayer. Religion and I had always been at odds, we had always argued and fought, but this particular cathedral was winning my heart, not because I intended to all of a sudden become religious, but because it had given me a sense of quiet and peace at a moment when I had really needed it.

I had looked for my father in the morning on the way to work. He was gone, and I had to come to terms with it. I’d light a candle for him as often as I could. I’d live my life hoping to see him again someday.

The same old lady I had seen the other day hobbled past the bench on which I was sitting. I felt compelled to talk to her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, coming up behind her.

She stopped and turned. “Yes.”

“I saw you in here a few days ago.”

“I come here a lot. May I help you with something?” she asked, exposing missing and chipped teeth, a thin white scarf draped around her shoulders and head.

“You don’t walk with a cane,” I said.

She touched her leg. “I leave it outside. It’s important to me that I walk without it when I’m in here.”

“May I ask why?”

“I light a candle for my daughter. She died a long time ago, when she was only fourteen. She couldn’t walk toward the end,” she sighed, “so I’m strong for her.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you? If I light a candle for your daughter?”

She touched my face. “I’m sure she would like that.”

She placed her hand in mine and together we walked. I didn’t know this lady. I didn’t know how her daughter had died or what pain she still felt, but something had compelled me to talk to her. And she hadn’t turned me away.

I lit a candle for her daughter. And then I lit one for my little sister.

“May you find peace,” she said to me.

“And if I can’t?”

“You will. Peace always comes to those who keep their hearts open.”

***

G
race was on the couch, feet propped on the ottoman when I got home. She was watching the news and eating cereal. I slid in next to her and rested my head on her shoulder.

“How’s the manuscript?” I asked.

She moved away from me. “That your way of saying I’m sorry?”

“I’m an idiot.”

Rolling her eyes at me she said, “You kind of are.”

The news was blasting in the background. I was tempted to lower the volume.

“I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did last night. Tom was your guest, and I was a rude dumbass. I’m sorry, I really am.”

She twirled her hair. “You’re not the only one who deserves to be happy, you know.”

Blinking fast, I said, “I know that.”

“Then why’d you act like that?”

“Cause I’m stupid. Because I was jealous. I didn’t want to share you or Lisa with Tom,” I breathed out, “I didn’t want my worlds colliding.”

She crossed her arms and held them close to her chest. “Maybe that’s part of it, but that’s not all of it. There’s more to it.”

I picked up the clicker and turned off the TV. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I call bullshit. You
are
jealous, that, anyone can tell. But there’s something you’re not admitting.”