It's Complicated (52 page)

Josie had called his mother. She’d called in his mother. No girlfriend, date, bedmate—whatever you called them—had been so brazen. He was fine. Fine! Bruised and sore with a fixed face, all he needed was for these meddling women to leave so he could drink a huge glass of water and take a nap.

Or for Josie to stay, so after that nap he could apologize and just put his arms around her and tell her everything he should have said that day he flipped on her.

Whispering, heads together, his mom and Josie kept saying “I know!” and “He does that with you, too?” Which didn’t help his increasingly split mood. Frustrated that they were treating him like a child. Maybe they were right. His hamstrings ached, his hip felt like an octogenarian’s, and his shoulder still hurt. Stretching his body out on the couch, he curled on his non-injured side and closed his eyes.

A soft hand on his brow. Mom. “Honey, are you okay?”

Honey. There was that word again.

“I’m fine,” he huffed.

More words between his mom and Josie, and then Meribeth gave him a hug, leaning over his body and awkwardly embracing him. “You’re in good hands with Josie. I have to get back to a patient, but I’ll call tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, sleep taking over. Whatever he thought his day would look like, nearly eight miles of running, a stupid injury, and a strange back-and-forth with Josie were all enough to let his exhaustion win, and sleep prevail.

“Thank you for calling me,” Meribeth said. Those kind eyes and her wit made Josie like her instantly. Nonjudgmental, sharp as could be, and funny, too.

Great mother-in-law material. About as different from Marlene as two women could be.

“No problem. He needed it.”

Meribeth laughed lightly. “He is a wonderful man, but Alex can be…self-contained. I assume he didn’t tell you about his problems at work.”

Josie frowned. “No.”

“For the past month his judgment was called into question on a case at the hospital. I’ve never seen him so stressed out. Professional ethics are very important to Alex.”

“I noticed.”

“And he misapplied those in your case.”

The two stood in awkward silence, until Meribeth said, “Josie, I’m about to pry.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Whatever is getting in the way of your being together, get rid of it. I’ve never seen him so affected by a woman before. And I’d like to get to know you better.” The pressure of her hand on Josie’s forearm felt good. Comfortable. Warm and caring. Like an invitation.

Josie smiled. “Me too. I just don’t know…” She bit her lower lip and swallowed hard.

“You’ll find your way.” And with that Meribeth reached to her for a hug, the affectionate gesture so alien, so maternal that Josie felt both punched in the solar plexus and joyously appreciative all at once.

An anemic wave as Meribeth left was all Josie could muster. Padding softly over to Alex, she saw he was asleep. Admiring him like this, bruised and sweaty, she found her heart giving way. Maybe they could find their way. Maybe Josie could find her way.

Perhaps, even, Alex needed to find his way, too. Dr. Imperfect was more than enough for her.

Kissing his cheek, she went to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and settled into a chair across from him. Just in case his head injury was worse than expected, she figured the safest course was to stay until he woke up.

And then—an idea.

Her phone was back at her apartment, so she used Alex’s phone to call Laura.

“Hello?” Laura answered in a guarded voice.

“What should I do?” Josie hissed into the phone.

“I think you should tell him how you feel and just stop being so ridiculous,” Laura answered without hesitation. “Whose phone are you on?”

“Alex’s.”

“Oooooh.”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m at his apartment. He’s asleep on the couch.”

“Tired him out?” You could hear the leer in Laura’s voice a mile away.

“No. He was running past my house and I was touching Joe’s chest and Alex got jealous and ran into a parking sign.”

“What? Repeat that!”

“I can’t. Hell, I don’t understand it myself.”

“Who is Joe?”

“One of Darla’s boyfriends.”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz
. The doorbell rang. Who the hell could that be? Slipping past Alex, she propped the apartment door open with the deadbolt and went to the main door.

Darla.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. Make sure you weren’t being dismembered and put in a freezer.” Darla craned her neck around Josie, obviously hinting she wanted to come in. Letting her, Josie ushered her into the apartment, putting a finger to her lips, pointing to Alex.

“Laura?” she whispered into the phone. “I need to let you go.”

“Only if you promise to talk to him. Openly. Honestly.”

Sigh. “I promise.”

“Don’t do what I did with Mike and Dylan. Don’t shut him out.”

“He’s the one who was wrong!”

“Yes, he was. But you’re paying the price for you own stubbornness, Josie.”

“You’re right. Kiss the baby for me.”

“Mwah!” Click.

Darla was gawking at the apartment. “This is newer than yours”, she stage whispered, careful not to wake Alex. “Ours. Our building.” She glanced at Alex. “He okay?”

“He will be.”

“Did he really sew his own eye wound shut?” Darla asked, her face a mask of revulsion.

“No. He used Dermabond.”

“Dermawhat?”

“Surgical glue. Like crazy glue, sort of.”

“Trevor will be disappointed,” Darla joked.

“Tell Trevor to go rent a Rambo movie
to get his flesh-sewing fix.” A loud growl came from Josie’s stomach and a lightheadedness hit her. Meeting Trevor and Joe. Alex’s appearances. His injuries. Meeting his mother—all in one morning, it was just too much.

“You okay?” Darla peered at her with knowing eyes. “You’re not okay.”

Tears filled Josie’s eyes, and she allowed them—finally—to spill over. “I’m not okay,” she admitted, sitting down on a chair across from Alex, pressing her forehead against her knees.

“What’s going on between you two?” Darla gave Alex the once-over, taking in his body. “He’s really cute.”

“I met his mom just now,” Josie sobbed as quietly as she could.

“It went that bad?”

“It was
greaaaaat
,” Josie cried. “She’s sweet and smart and funny and I could see her as my mother-in-law.” She hissed the last word in an even lower whisper, as if she were a Harry Potter character saying Voldemort’s name.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m too fucked up for Alex,” Josie wailed.

“Then go unfuckup yourself, Josie!” Darla said matter-of-factly. “No one else will do it for you.”

Laughing through her tears, Josie said, “Oh, like it’s so easy.”

“No—it isn’t. It’s complicated.”

Snort. “It’s always complicated.”

“
You’re
always complicated, Josie.”

That stung. “What do you mean?”

Darla’s voice softened. “I know it was hard for you, growing up with your mom like that. Mama used to say she got the better end of the bargain, because while she lost a foot and her mobility, at least she kept her mind. Her sister didn’t.”

“Aunt Cathy said that?”

“Yes, she did.” Compassion oozed out of Darla. They hardly ever talked like this, and Josie found it surreal. Eye-opening. Expanding. Not at all freakish or upsetting.

“I was always over at your place. She’d call and ask for help with you.”

“And sometimes she needed it, but Josie, mostly she was trying to get you out from Aunt Marlene’s wrath.”

“I know.” She’d known when she was eleven. She knew now, at twenty-nine. Aunt Cathy gave her a stable place to escape to, where the home was cluttered but there were regular meals, a place to do homework quietly, and Darla to curl up on the couch with and watch television. It was homey, even if it wasn’t home.

“But you got to get beyond that. You’re twenty-nine. How much longer are you going to drag your past around like a big old ball and chain?” Darla looked pointedly at Alex, then put her hands on her thighs and pushed herself to standing, sighing deeply, as if tired.

“And that”—she pointed at Alex—“is worth way, way more than the three or four luggage carts of baggage you’ve loaded yourself with.”

“You make it sound like I had a choice!” Josie hissed.

“You didn’t when you were a kid, but you sure as hell do now.”

“This from the woman who wouldn’t leave her mama until a few weeks ago?”

Darla stopped, her jaw going tense, nostrils flaring. Then she sighed, a slow relaxing that drained her anger out. “Yeah, Josie. That’s right. I decided I needed to make a change and look what I got.” She nodded toward the door. “And on that note, I’m going back to the apartment. Sam and Liam from the band are there and we’re getting ready to go out.

“Four?” Josie gasped.

“No!” Darla shouted. Alex stirred, and Josie put a finger to her lips. Rolling her eyes, Darla slipped out quietly, leaving Josie to stew in her thoughts.

Alex woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone, a small reading lamp the only source of light in the room. As he sat up, he groaned, the pain throbbing on his cheekbone and hip strong and vibrant.

“How are you?” a quiet voice asked, making him jump.

Josie leaned into the light, her legs curled under her. She was reading a book off his shelf, a piece of creative nonfiction about the history of ether.

“Shit! You scared me. I…uh…what time is it?”

She checked a phone. His phone. “Almost eight.”

“I slept that long?”

“You needed it.”

He winced, his face hurting and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like Velcro. As if she read his mind, she unfolded herself, went to the kitchen, and came back with a huge glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. “You might want these.”

Shaking two tablets out, he swallowed them greedily, then drank half the water. “Thank you,” he said, deeply grateful. “You stayed here with me? The whole time?”

“I wanted to make sure that you didn’t bang your head too hard. Just figured I’d be here until you woke up.” She stood, setting the book aside. “So…”

“No! Don’t leave!” he begged. “I’m…just wait.”

She froze. Alex knew that the wrong words wouldn’t work here, but he didn’t much care anymore about being perfect. What he needed was to be real. Not talking about the stress at work, jumping to ridiculous conclusions, not calling her and apologizing were all dick moves, and he'd known it then—but it was blatantly obvious now.

“I’m sorry, Josie. Deeply sorry. And I’m even more sorry that it’s taken me this long to apologize.” He stood, his hip screaming, but his mobility had improved from the nap as he carefully took three steps closer to her. Running his hand through his hair, he added, “I wish I could turn back the clock.”

Her eyes bored into his as she evaluated him. Trust wasn’t easy for her, he knew—and he’d proven that he wasn’t worthy of it. Given time, maybe, he could unprove that.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

So much unsaid hung in the air between them, like ephemeral storm clouds at sunset, unpredictable yet hovering, ready to waft off with a breeze or unleash a storm.

No one could guess which outcome was most likely.

She took a step closer. He did, too.

“I don’t feel like I need to apologize,” Josie said.

“You don’t.”

“But I do feel like I should say…something. About our somethinging.”

“Our
what
?”

She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and his heart melted. “Somethinging. It’s a joke between me and Laura. She asked me what you and I were doing a while ago and I said we were somethinging. I didn’t have a name for it.”

“Ah.” They were getting somewhere. Josie wasn’t walking away, or stomping off angry, or worse—indifferent.

“Alex, I’ve never met a man like you before.” She frowned. “Or, if I have, I’ve driven men like you away on purpose.”

“Why?”

“Because, as I told Darla today, I’m too fucked up to be with someone who is normal.”

“No, you’re—”

She held up a palm. He shut up. “She told me to unfuckup myself.”