Progress (Progress #1) (17 page)

Chapter Five

Jesse

By eight o’clock, it had escalated.

No longer could I wait to explain to Charlie all the things that had gone through my head, but time was imminent. Who knew how long I’d be in the Whirl, or how long I’d be in the depression afterward? But if my past was any indicator, it would be weeks—if not months—before I’d see myself in a state I considered normal.

Regardless of how much I rationalized not seeing Charlie that night, my hand still found its way to my keys. My keys still found their way to my ignition. And my foot still found the pedals to bring me to the restaurant.

But my mind was a mess, teetering on some kind of brink of desperation, remorse, and optimism. An optimism that Charlie seemed to make viral. Because as I pummeled my way through the front doors, my eyes sought out every strand of red hair in the place, spotting her by the takeout side of the kitchen countertop.

Carrying nothing but a dozen crumpled pieces of paper in my hands, I walked quickly to the expo line, approaching her from behind. Angie stood to her left, and turned just as I stopped a few feet behind Charlie.

Charlie’s back was turned. She talked with Alejandro about a ticket, and I felt like it took an hour before she finally faced me.

“Charlie?” Angie snapped, tugging on Charlie’s apron string. Her eyes were fixed on mine, but mine were fixed on the back of Charlie’s head.

She held up a finger, finishing her sentence, and Angie continued to stare at me wild-eyed.

“Charlie,” Angie repeated, more sternly that time.

“Yes?” Charlie turned, facing Angie.

Angie nudged her chin in my direction, and I’d hoped I was smiling. I felt like I was smiling. Was I smiling?

“Look at his eyes,” Angie whispered, dipping her chin to stare at the floor.

Charlie’s smile vanished as soon as she saw me.

“Jess?” She looked around the room—for what, I didn’t know—and I tried to remain as casual as possible.

But my knees shook, and I didn’t know what to do with my arms. They had suddenly grown too heavy, and no matter if I crossed them, kept them at my sides, or wrapped my fingers around the back of my head, I couldn’t find a comfortable position.

“Charlie.” Rattled from the thoughts of seeing myself through her eyes, my voice shook.

That time, I’m pretty sure she noticed.

“You okay?” she asked, butting up against the counter to take a step back from me.

Was I too close? Had I invaded some kind of seven-foot distance standard she’d set?

So many fucking rules.

“Fine. Can I talk to you?”

“What’s in your hands there, buddy?” Angie said, looking down at my fistfuls of paper.

“None of your goddamned business.” I cocked an eyebrow and looked to her side. “Charlie?” Turning on my heel, I headed back to the lobby, hoping she’d follow.

I stepped outside and the cold air hit my exposed skin. “It’s cold out here,” I mumbled.
Was it this cold when I left my house?

The door opened and closed behind me, and she stood with her hands rubbing her arms for warmth. “It’s freezing out here. Where’s your jacket?” she asked.

“Never mind that. Look, I’ve been at home all day, and I wanted to ask you a question. Well, first a question, then just, well…a statement, I guess.”

“Is this going to take long? I should tell someone I’m on break or something,” she said, waving her hand toward the building.

I smiled. “It won’t take long.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever done?” I asked. “Besides skinny-dipping.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Strange for me, or strange for you?”

I smiled at the way her mind worked. “What do you mean?”

“Well there are a lot of things that feel natural to me, but other people find them strange.”

“I’m not talking about the way you have to dump the sugar in your coffee before you pour a cup. I’m talking about weird, out of the ordinary, something you never thought you’d do, or a morally compromising situation.”

“Morally compromising?”

“Yeah.”

She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve been in many of those.”

“You’ve never found yourself debating whether or not you should do something because of your stance on a subject?”

“No. Well…there was one time I left work. I worked at a department store overnights, stocking shelves. And I got a phone call from a friend of mine. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her and she needed to talk.”

“And what happened?”

“Are you sure this won’t take long?” she changed the subject.

“Time’s ticking, Charlie.” I shook my head, a deep pinch in my brow. “What happened?”

“When they wouldn’t let me take the rest of the night off, I left and got written up. Say, are you okay? Have you been drinking? You seem…”

“Not now. Finish your story. What happened to your friend? I mean, why do you consider that strange?”

She shrugged. “I was told when I returned to work, that a ‘friend in need’ didn’t justify an excused absence. And that’s what I meant by ‘
strange to you or strange to me
’—because I couldn’t see many other excusable reasons to leave work other than a friend in need. Jobs will come and go, but friends are supposed to last forever.”

“So what you’re saying is that your need to provide for yourself is nothing compared to the needs of others.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You could have lost your job.”

“It was just a job.”

“It was the way you clothed yourself, paid rent, bought cigarettes and food. How was a friend’s breakup worth risking that? Why do you put yourself so low on your own list of priorities?”

She sighed. “It’s what I do, I guess.”

“And would that friend do the same for you? Would she have risked her job to come talk to you in your
time of need
?”

She laughed. “I don’t really have times of need.”

“That’s the whole problem here. You aren’t recognizing yourself as a human being. Tell me, have you never been disappointed, had a broken heart, or needed a shoulder to cry on?”

“I don’t do that.” She shook her head, looking down. “I don’t let people see me like that.”

“Because you’re not worth it.”

“I…” She stopped. “Maybe.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t see it, do you? You don’t see how that wasn’t a normal response to that situation. Your friend could’ve fallen asleep for two hours and waited for you to get off work, and then you could’ve run to her.”

“I don’t understand the point you’re making, Jesse. She wasn’t going to sleep. I knew her. It was urgent.”

“Charlie! People don’t do that.” My legs shook again, gravity rearing its ugly head. It was always the surest sign I was about to crash.

“Well maybe more people should. This world might be a better place.”

“That ain’t gonna happen anytime soon. Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never done anything like that before?” she asked.

“What? Helped a friend through a breakup?”

“Yeah. Or anything else to help someone? I always thought it should be in the forefront of everyone’s minds—the best interest of others.”

“It’s a sad world out there, Red.”

“Isn’t that how you think, though? I mean, deep down, past all the hard, bitter anger and tough-guy face you wear? Don’t you want what’s in people’s best interest?”

“People as a whole, yes. But individually speaking, there’s too much disappointment. Friends, family, all of the people I consider close—”

“What about me?” She chewed her lip. “Would you act in
my
best interest?”

I leaned in, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I have an answer for that.”

She giggled. “You have an answer for everything.”

“Not everything.”

“So you don’t know if you’d—”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“You asked the question!” She smiled. “I’m just running with the conversation. But now that we’re talking about it, I want to know if I’m the only freak out there who thinks about these things. Am I really so different?”

“I don’t know how you do it, to be honest.”

“What?”

“Love like you do. Put everyone before yourself.”

“If you saw what I see, you’d do the same.”

“Would
you
always act in
my
best interest?” I asked.

“Like what? Dragging you from a burning building or giving you five hundred dollars to bail you—”

“Would you kiss me?”

The words shouldn’t have hit me as hard as they did, since they came from my mouth. But I felt just as stunned as she looked.

She flinched backward, and the smile faded from her face. “What?” she whispered.

“Because if you knew what was in my best interest—right now—and how badly I wanted it, you’d kiss me without hesitating.”

She looked down to her hands, then hid them behind her to mask the tremors. I should’ve apologized for making her uncomfortable, but I didn’t. I really wanted her to answer the damn question. It was a simple question that I’d wanted to know the answer to for quite some time.

Could she do it?

How much talking and flirting and fighting would it take for her to just let go and trust me? I knew what I was asking. This was one of the hardest questions she’d ever been asked. And I wasn’t making it easier on her with my silence and damn twitching.

And then she gave me that look. The look I dreaded. The one where the people I care about suddenly question everything I’ve said up until that point. She knew something was wrong. She probably even knew I was on the brink of breaking.

She knew me too well. And not well enough.

Taking a step closer, she whispered in my ear. “I can answer your question now.”

The reaction my stomach had over her warm breath in my ear caused a pulsing shockwave through my system. No part of my body remained unaffected as I allowed the spins and senses of the Whirl to course through me.

“Yeah?” I quieted my tumbling gut and the brief high her words ignited.

“The strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

“What’s that?” I whispered.

She hesitated, squinting her eyes shut quickly and opening them again. After a deep breath, she swallowed. “I kissed a broken boy just because he asked me to.”

She leaned in, and her lips hovered over mine.

She kept them still and steady, breathed in and out, and caused my chest to pound with an increase in heartbeats. We kept our eyes open, our lazy blues locked together. With a sharp inhale, her eyelids drifted shut, and she closed her lips to mine with a kiss.

Just one tiny lingering kiss. As pure as the woman before me, and just as lovely.

It was the sweetest thing I’d ever been a part of, and it couldn’t have lasted much longer than two seconds.

But I vowed to always remember it.

It was what honesty was made of.

“Charlie?” Adam walked out, causing us both to start. “Break’s over.” He closed the door, making sure to sneak a glare in my direction.

“I want you to have these.” I shoved the papers into her hands, a few falling to the concrete. I bent over and picked them up.

“What are these, Jess?”

I shook my head. “Go back to work, Red.”

“Jess? What are these?”

“The only thing I have to give,” I whispered.

“Can I call you tonight?” she blurted as I walked away.

“No.” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

I barely made it to my car before collapsing inside at the weight of my limbs.

Chapter Six

Jesse

“Your bike is gathering dust in the garage. You haven’t rubbed it against your cock in over a week,” Jake said, walking past the pile of blankets where I was hidden.

“Fuck off,” I growled, flipping through the channels again.

“I’ve got weed. Want some?”

“Fuck off.”

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “How about something to eat?”

“Fuck off.”

He finally took the hint and walked toward the basement door. Reaching the threshold, he stopped and turned around. “Charlie called. So did your boss.”

I eased my thumb off the button on the remote and raised a brow.

“Come on, man,” he started. “You’ve been on that couch for over a week. I don’t know what you have to be all emotional about. If something happened between you and Ch—”

“She called?” My voice was more monotone than I felt about the news.

“Yeah. Yesterday, I think. Look, the weather is prime. It’ll be winter soon. We should be eating on patios every night, trolling for pussy. We should be out drinking, smoking…”

“What did she say?”

“Huh? What did who say?”

“Charlie.” I spoke quietly. “Did she leave a message?”

He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t checked voicemail. Dad said she called the landline. Never mind Charlie, dickhead, the weekend is coming up. Are we going to go out or not?”

“Not likely,” I grumbled.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But do us all a favor and take a shower. You smell like shit.” He turned and walked out of the room before I could ask him to bring me the phone.

I still hadn’t paid my cell phone bill. But there weren’t many people who’d be looking for me, so it seemed pointless to flush money down the drain. It made sense The Crimson had called; I’d covered my shifts for the past seven days and hadn’t been around since I had given Charlie the song.

I pried my ass from the couch, took a piss, and walked to the dining room to get the phone off the charger. Each step was agony, draining the energy I’d stored up for the past six hours. That was the last time I’d gotten up to piss.

I’d been like that for days. While it would probably seem like a nice break away for some, it was anything but. Sleep was erratic; some days I slept for twenty hours straight, and others I didn’t sleep at all. My moods shifted as often as I changed the channel, and my mind’s restlessness busied my doubts, insecurities, and thoughts of worthlessness.

My medication wasn’t easy to remember, since I’d lost faith in the fact that it was doing anything for me, but I had recalled taking them more than half the time. Three pills, twice a day. Not easy to remember, but not easy to forget either.

There were two messages for me on voicemail. The first one I listened to was Ben, the Delivery manager.

“Hey Jess, Ben here. I know you’re scheduled for tomorrow morning, and as far as I know, you haven’t gotten anyone to cover your shift. I’m expecting a big morning. We already have three pre-orders for big parties, and I want to make sure you’re going to be here. I
need
you here, man. In fact, I’ve already got most of the staff lined up to work. If you think you aren’t going to make it, you need to give me a call.” He exhaled. “All right. Thanks. See ya.”

My spine weakened at the thought of working, and I stood hunched over with the phone in my hand. I hit a button to listen to the next message. My body slouched even further, sending me down to the chair next to the phone.

It was Charlie.

“Hi. Um, this message is for Jesse.” Always so polite and cordial, and I smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hey Jess, I was just calling to say hello. I’ve been thinking about…well, um.” She took a breath, making me believe she had more to say, but she stopped, making me believe she thought it wasn’t a good idea. I scratched my jaw during her pause, and closed my eyes. “I haven’t seen you for a week, and the last time I saw you was…well, um.” That stop garnered a small laugh from me, as I sat in the chair with my eyes sealed shut. “I hoped that maybe I could come by or we could go to the…well, um.”
The park.
Behind my eyes I pictured the pond and felt the blades of grass behind my back. “Just calling to make sure you’re okay. Call me if you can. Oh!” she shouted. “This is Charlie—Charlene Johnson, by the way. I can’t remember if I already said that. Okay well, um, bye.”

I took the phone with me, listening to the message again as I returned to the couch.

And then again.

One more time.

I don’t know how many times I listened to it, but it was far more than would’ve been considered emotionally healthy. It helped to think I wasn’t alone, I suppose. Or maybe Charlie just had a way about her.

I listened to the message repeatedly, well into the night, hoping some kind of emotion would find its way in. But when the phone battery died, so did her voice, and nothing had found its way to me besides a bit of ease for the day knowing that Charlie was thinking about me.

***

I’d hoped to get a better sleep. When I rolled over and looked at the clock for the umpteenth time, it flashed 6:42. I wasn’t going to be useful at work that morning; every minute had been counted since 3:41.

It was time to get up and call Ben.

I put the phone back on the charger and took Jake’s cell from the counter.

“Hello?” Ben answered with a groggy voice.

“Hey Ben, it’s Jess. I’m not feeling so great today, I don’t think I should come in.”

“You can’t do this to me, man,” Ben begged. “I really need you today. Look, you can be first cut, and I’ll make sure you don’t go out unless we need you. But I could really use the backup in case things take a turn for the worse. If you don’t think you can drive, that’s fine—you can just answer the phones and I’ll take the deliveries. Charlie said she could pitch in too, and we could pull Adam to the dining room floor.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m in pretty tough shape.”

“Is it contagious?”

Of course it wasn’t, but it would’ve been the perfect excuse. For some reason, though, lying took more energy than telling the truth.

“I’ll be in at ten,” I grumbled, and hung up the phone.

The mere thought of taking a shower wasn’t something I thought I could handle, let alone going into work. Not even the thought of seeing Charlie redeemed the situation. But if I lost my job, I’d lose a lot more than just a paycheck.

I’d miss out on every smile, every sassy remark, and every cigarette. Every flick of her hair, blush of her cheeks, and scrunch of her nose. I’d lose her compassion, her soft skin, and the way her lip quirked when she pronounced the letter
W
. I’d miss the opportunity to watch her when she didn’t know it, relax with every breath she took, and remember how to breathe with every glance in my direction.

Without knowing it, she reminded me of just how human I was and that there was someone out there who could take it all away if I let them.

I couldn’t lose my job.

If I lost my job, I’d lose Charlie.

That alone was enough to get the warm water running in the tub.

I somehow managed to get in the shower, wash my hair, and scrub my body. One painstaking leg at a time, I put on a pair of jeans. One lethargic arm at a time, I pulled on a T-shirt. All my clothes were dirty—I hadn’t done laundry in a week—so I put on the least offensive stuff I could find.

By 9:45, I was exhausted. My muscles ached from the activity my body hadn’t seen for days, and my mind oozed with ambivalence.

I couldn’t remember the drive into work once I got there. I couldn’t remember putting the car in drive, whether or not I’d smoked, what I’d thought about, or if I’d missed any lights. The minutes blurred together and I had no right to be driving.

But once I entered the back of the restaurant, I saw Charlie standing with Ben at the delivery station, and the look on her face took me aback, almost causing me to stumble.

She glanced over at me briefly with soft eyes and gave me a little wave, mouthing the word
hi
.

She nudged her chin in my direction and Ben turned. He looked at me with the same relief.

“I told you he’d be here,” she said, her eyes sweeping over my body and filling with concern. She tucked her hair behind her ear and took another deep breath, looking to the ceiling.

But I couldn’t watch her and the disappointment in her eyes anymore, and I walked to the stockroom in the back. Grabbing a new Crimson tee from the shelf, I took off my smelly shirt and replaced it with the new one.

Ben walked in. “Thanks for coming today. And you were right, you’re in rough shape. You look like shit. You sure it’s not contagious?”

“It’s fine,” I snapped, pulling the uniform tee over my head. “I forgot to do laundry. Charge me for the new shirt.”

“I think you still owe us for the last three you took,” Ben laughed. When he saw my glare, he wiped the smirk from his face. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me. Just hang tight by Delivery and answer the phone if it rings. I’m going to help Charlie set up the twenty-top that will be arriving at eleven o’clock.”

I remained silent and walked to the station, sitting on the small stool designated for the poor bastard stuck answering the phones that day: me.

I sat staring at the phone, willing it to ring so I had something to do. Ten minutes passed with my debilitating thoughts, in a broken mind spell, mourning the high I’d been on for weeks before the Grim had hit. Despair struck me hard, and an ache to my stomach pinched my side.

But I didn’t flinch at it. I welcomed it along with my anger and self-loathing.

“Listen here, boy, things are tough enough around this house without your attitude added to the mix. Your mother is sick and I’m out of work. You think maybe you could shut your damn mouth and keep out of trouble at school?”

A slap to the back of the head.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, watching the grease flicker from the frying pan on the dirty stove and waiting for his mood to pass.

“Are you listening to me? Are you fucking retarded? Hey Mandy, get in here! Your brother is a retard!”

Again.

“Listen here, boy, things are tough enough around this house without your retarded mother added to the mix. You’re just like her. Worthless, ugly, and retarded.”

A slap to the back of the head.

And again. That bastard.

“Listen here, boy, things are tough enough around this house without your attitude added to the mix. Your mother is sick and I’m out of work. You think maybe you could shut your damn mouth and keep out of trouble at school?”

A slap to the back of the head.

Switch. Sucker punch.

It’s so fucking hot in here.

“Hey.”

I tore my stare away from the wall in front of me at the melody of Charlie’s voice. I took in a deep breath, not remembering the last one I’d taken, and the pinch in my stomach disappeared.

I still couldn’t smile, though I desperately wanted to. I wanted her to see how appreciative I was for her timing.

“Can you help me over here?” she asked, gesturing toward the salad counter. “If you’re not too busy.”

“What do you need?” I remained still.

She smiled and waved me over playfully. “I need
you
.”

I shook my head and set my arms on the counter in front of me. “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you
can
. And you
will
. You’re getting nine bucks an hour in this fine establishment. And if Adam catches you sitting there not doing anything, he’s not going to be happy.” She winked. “Come on, Crabby Pants, I promise it’s super easy. Trained monkeys could do it.”

I cracked a smile and then smoothed my hands over my face to wipe it away. “Red,” I pleaded.

“See? I have twenty plates stacked here,” she continued, ignoring the tone of my voice. “I need twenty plates of lettuce for house salads in the next twenty minutes. Think you can handle that?”

“Why should
you
care? Shouldn’t a server be taking care of it?” I asked.

She smiled. “Well, their server is currently filling parmesan and pepper bottles for their table. She’s new, so she doesn’t know how she’s going to handle the volume. And she still needs to set out silverware and napkins.” Charlie grabbed an empty bottle and dipped it into a vat of parmesan cheese.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re serving now?” I asked, watching her fill the bottles.

She nodded and turned her head to me. “I am.”

“That’s out of character.”

“Maybe I’m changing.”

When I didn’t respond, she slapped a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “Help me, Jess. I don’t know what I’m doing and I need your confidence today.”