Compassion (10 page)

We move over to the paint selection and the discussion continues. While it should be totally one sided, Jaye constantly asks my opinion, wants my input almost as if afraid to make a choice all on her own.

I get the feeling Chris made all the big choices. He had all the control. Here's a chance for her to take some of it back and I'll be damned if I interfere.

“Jaye,” I sternly state. “You pick what
you
want and I'll support it.” She bats her dark eyelashes helplessly up at me. “Whatever it is
you
want. I'll stand with you.”

She curls her arms around her body. “I like the steel gray. A little white trim. You know, the whole modern vibe thing.”

“Good.”

We thumb through colors looking for shades that excite her. While she continues bouncing between different hues, I observe her reactions making notes of the ones that really light up her face. As she flips back through them, they're the ones I push towards knowing she needs to the encouragement.

I give Jaye a little space to think over what we've selected while I stroll the rest of aisles, curious if there's anything else we need before we head for the tile choices. In the process I manage to convince a young couple to put back the wrong object for their broken toilet and help an elderly woman relocate to the right side of the store.

When I wander back over she sighs, “You know an awful lot about fixing things.”

“I do.”

“Maybe we should pick up a job application here?”

The thought, which hadn't crossed my mind, is one I can get on board with. “Yeah.” A crooked grin crawls on my face. “Maybe we should.”

Jaye gives me a wide smile, points out the paints she wants, and I grab them from the shelves.

I like this. I like picking paint. Having a purpose. I like having a plan. I like something to take my mind away from thoughts of Seth, Micah, and Randy. I welcome the distraction. Even though I know this is all temporary, I'm going to make the most of every moment. In my experience life rarely gives you shit like this without some sort of downside and until it hits, I think I'll try to enjoy it while I can.

Jaye

Leaning back in the bar seat, I give Calvin another giggle.

Don't judge. It's just one drink. After putting him off for the last three weeks straight and avoiding the topic with my mother, I finally broke on this fourth one. It seemed easier than trying to keep finding excuses not to go. To be fair, I was going to be out late tonight because of book club anyway, just extended it a little while longer.

“This was fun,” Calvin charmingly says handing the bill to the bartender.

“It was,” I agree. “It really was.”

Not bullshitting. He's sweet. Funny. A little career obsessed but the stories he weaves are adorable.

Casually, he questions, “How about dinner this weekend?”

“Hm,” I hum lightly.

There's no logical reason to say no. He fits the ideal scenario. He's attractive in a young Morris Chestnut sort of way. Polite. My mother adores him. On paper he's the perfect candidate yet....he's not the one I wish I was on a date with.

“Alright,” Calvin backs down. “I respect the need to think about it. Just promise you'll
actually
think about it.”

With a giggle, I nod. “Promise.”

“Good,” he replies grabbing the receipt. “Not quite ready to strike out yet.”

Maybe I should just go. I mean, it's not like Archer and I are dating, no matter how many times that thought has crossed my mind. There's no looking past the obvious vibes that bounce between us, but that's where it ends. Over the last few weeks we've grown closer than I ever have been to another person and it's terrifying. Chris and I were close friends growing up, but we lost touch when we left for college like most old friends do. When we got involved, we got close again, but there was never a point in time where we were like me and Archer. He didn't know how much I had a strong distaste for figs or the fact I eat Skittles in the color of the rainbow. He wasn't around to bring me hot chocolate on cold late nights while I read. He never tucked me in on the couch after I fell asleep beside him as he watched Sports Center. Hell, I don't think he ever told me when he stopped believing in Santa or how if we had children he wanted to dress up like him. Yeah, that's one of the fun things Archer wants to do when he becomes a parent.
If
he becomes one. The point I was trying to make was our relationship was just different. Not bad. Just...nothing like the one I have with Archer. Chris and I had sex. Not frequently. Not always passionately. But we did have it. That's something that I've only had with Archer in my dreams....boy are those some good dreams.

Feeling my thighs clench together, I reach for my purse. “I really should get going.”

“Let me walk you to your car,” Calvin insists.

The two of us cross to the opposite side of the restaurant still making small talk. We walk around the building to where my car is parked in the front, which is where his hand leans against the top of my car window.

“I had a wonderful time, Jaye.” He wets his full lips. “I'm really hoping you take me up on that dinner this weekend. Or next weekend if you already have plans.” When I smile he winks. “You promised to think about it.”

“I will.”

He smiles in return, plants a soft kiss on my cheek, and backs away so I can get in. No more than four minutes out of the parking lot, my phone begins to ring, my mother’s name flashing on the dash.

As soon as I hit answer she demands, “Tell me everything!”

Puzzled I question, “How did you know it was over?”

“Intuition,” my mother coos. “How was it? Was he a gentleman?”

“He was,” I sigh. “It was nice. He's a really nice guy, mom.”

“Then why don't you sound excited?”

Archer's face flashes through my mind.

She still has no idea I've moved a complete stranger into my house. Though, he's really not a stranger any more. At the dinners I've been to since he moved in I merely avoid the topic. I don't wanna lie to their faces. And before you say it, this omission doesn't count as a lie.

“Jaye...” her voice calls to me. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” my assurance is followed by me switching lanes. “Everything is fine. We'll probably go to dinner soon.”

“Good! I'm really glad you're finally doing something about your love life. Finally refilling it. It's been so long since Chris' death. ”

Hearing his name causes a low, uncomfortable groan.

Part of me thinks the reason I've had such a hard time leaving Chris behind is because of her. Because she says shit like that. Because instead of just letting me wander away from him all on my own, she pushes or tugs or whatever the hell you call this. I know she means well, but sometimes it doesn't feel that way.

“Mom, I have to stop at the mailbox-”

“In the dark?”

“I still need to check my mail,” I protest as I pull into my neighborhood entrance. “I'll give you a call tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure,” she sounds pleased. “Are you coming by for dinner this weekend?”

“We'll see.”

The false hope seems to be enough for her. “Sleep well.”

“Thanks mom, you too.”

After ending the call, I make my way home, making sure to stop and actually grab the mail since I haven't in a few days. As soon as I stroll through the front door, I see Archer wiping his hands on a towel.

Seeing him in a white tank top and gym shorts, healthy muscles on display like they're waiting to be worshiped, has me frozen in place.

Give him another look and tell me you blame me. Tell me you don't wonder a little bit what it would be like to have him wrap those around you, to pin you down while he rocks into you. Wow. Sexually frustrated doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. It's been a few years. Is it obvious? Do you think he knows?

Archer folds his arms across his chest.

Impulsively I ramble, “You're covered in paint.”

In a proud tone, he states, “I finished the bathroom.”

I drop my bags, excitement hard to hide. “All of it?”

He nods slowly. “Wanna see?”

“Hell yes.” Rushing his direction, I follow him down the hall towards the area, shocked at first glance.

The sharp gasp is followed by him leaning against the wall behind me. “You like it?”

“This is beautiful,” I gush at the remodel. “Like, can I shower down here instead?”

Archer chuckles. “It's your house, babe. Do what you want.”

My bottom lip slips between my teeth.

He calls me babe sometimes. I don't even think he realizes he does it, but God do I love it. Chris never called me anything other than Jaye, even when we got engaged. I like the simple, sweet nickname.

“We can redo your bathroom if you want,” Archer starts. “We can redo any room you want. Just tell me when and we'll plan a trip to Harry's.”

“Too bad they weren't hiring.” I turn around and lean against the door frame. “We could get a discount.”

He tries to smile but it fades into a frown.

Not a single yes, yet I haven't given up hope. I can't. We can't. He'll get work soon. Besides until he does, I'm totally okay with him fixing my house, grocery shopping with me, helping cook, and vacuuming. It seems like little shit, I know, but it's a big help.

I try to change the subject, “Hungry?”

“Are you?” he counters. “Did you eat at book club?”

“Not typically. I only serve light snacks anyway. It's only about an hour give or take.”

Bafflement crosses his face. “Then why are you home so late?”

“Um...” Archer watches me closely, waiting intently for an answer. Pulling my hair to one side I finally sigh, “I um...I had a date.”

“A date,” he echoes, his body stiffening.

“It was just a drink,” I quickly inform.

“A drink.”

“My mom has been trying to set me up with this guy for weeks and finally our schedules matched, so we went out for a drink and-”

“You don't owe me an explanation,” Archer cuts me off.

“But-”

“I'm not hungry,” he continues and removes himself from the wall. Instead of allowing me any time to answer, his body turns to head for the garage. “I'm gonna head to bed early-”

“You're covered in paint, shouldn't you-”

“I'll shower in the morning. Night, Jaye.”

The garage door slams harshly seconds before I whisper, “Night, Archer...”

Frustrated, I turn around, heading back for the kitchen.

Was it wrong to go out with someone else? I mean, we're just friends right? He hasn't even given me a hint that maybe he'd be interested in anything more. We shouldn't be anything more because that would make this complicated situation even more complicated
.
,
H
h
owever, it doesn't stop me from wanting it. Besides Calvin would be the more logical route to go. He has his own job. Car. Place to live. He's set in life. He wants kids. He's everything that a normal person would look for in a significant other while
Archer...Archer is a work in progress. Sure, he was technically homeless. Has no job nor any offers. No car. No idea what he wants to do with his life, but knows exactly how to make me smile. How to make my heart speed up. He knows when I want extra salt on my fries and when I need to have a bubble bath because work was too much.

Leaning against the counter, I reach for my house phone and dial a number that I know will probably make me feel better.

“Sugar,” my father's voice fills the phone inserting a tender feeling throughout me.

“Hi dad.”

Immediately he questions, “What's bothering my daughter?”

“How do you know something is bothering me?”

“Because I know my little girl,” he states. “Now, we can do the song and dance bullshit first or you can just tell me, what's on your mind?”

“There's this situation I'm in,” I begin slowly, eyes falling closed. “There's a logical route and...a less logical route.”

“Is this about work?”

“No...”

“Dating?”

“Possibly...”

He lets out a little laugh, “Look, I know how your mother feels about this. I know how she's been pushing you to replace Chris in your life for the last...couple of years and on one hand I agree with her. I think it would be healthy for you for to move forward.”

I'm trying...

“However, you have to move forward the way that fits you best, Jaye. And I know you. You would go out with the wrong man a hundred times in an attempt to refrain from upsetting anyone, but sometimes you have to just go do what's best for you sugar. Whatever that means. Logical or illogical. For once, you're that bunny on top of the mountain and you need to do whatever it takes to rescue yourself. Do you understand?”

There's a little hum that comes out before I whisper in agreement, “I do...”

He feels this way now, I just pray he feels this way after they meet some day. Something tells me, there's a good chance, he won't.