Take It - Part Two (5 page)

The words are out before I can think about them. I don't know what's come over me. I just volunteered to help with the dishes. The light in my mother’s eyes is so bright and shimmering behind the hint of tears that I look away. I never realized how little effort was necessary to warm my mother’s lonely heart. It makes me joyful and sad all at once.

The next day, ten minutes after Mom goes to work at Happy Endings bookstore, Pierce knocks on the side door. When I answer it, he's standing there looking all hunky in his work boots, utility belt, and basketball T-shirt. Unfortunately, his lower extremities are hidden behind a thick layer of denim.

I'm feeling much better. Most of my aches are gone and the cut on my cheek is fading away to a bad memory. Though I'm not quite ready to go dancing, I've stopped hobbling about. The walking boot feels like something I can move in today. I kept it off since arriving at my mom’s house, but she didn’t give me a choice this morning. My mother strapped it on and told me if I took it off she’d drive me back to the hospital tonight. I know it’s an empty threat, but I give her the win.

Even my hand feels better, other than the splinted two fingers. I ask Pierce if he'd like a cup of coffee. I know the close presence of this gorgeous man has something to do with my well-being. I want to show him I’m worth visiting. For the first time since the accident I have a reason to act normal again.

He takes the offered steaming cup of coffee and puts the finishing touches on his front door repair before turning to me, giving me a thorough appraisal before completely deflating my balloon of happiness.

"Physically, you look great. You're not wobbling anymore, your face is as lovely as I'm sure it always was, even your hand motions seem fluid. I guess a good night’s sleep did you good."

"But?" I say, brushing aside the elation I feel when he says I'm lovely.

"You look sad. As if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. You look like you could start crying any minute. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm perfectly fine," I say with a casual wave of my hand even as I feel a lump rise into my throat and tears threaten to well in my eyes.

"You're a terrible liar. Come on; tell me. Shared misery loses half its sting. Besides, there's an old Native American saying that when you save someone, you're responsible for their well-being. So it’s my job to make sure you’re doing well. What's wrong?"

"If you haven’t noticed, I’m not really living the dream here. My car is gone. My apartment is gone. My job is gone. I just want my life back." My voice climbs a few octaves, and I try not to let the panic I feel show on my face.

“Jenny, all of those things can be fixed with time. You are lucky to be alive. I can’t tell you how many accident scenes I’ve pulled up to with folks who never get a chance to have ruined lives because theirs is over. You have people who love you. Here, give me your hand.”

I offer him my hand and wonder what he could possibly want with it. Will he pull me into his arms, hold me tight, and tell me everything will be all right? I’ve never wanted or needed that in my life, but now I certainly wouldn’t say no. Instead he opens my fingers so my palm is flat and places it on his chest. He takes my other hand and places it on my chest. “That’s it, Jenny. That thumping in your chest, in my chest, is the only thing that matters. It’s what separates you right now from the woman I watched last week as she was pronounced dead at the scene of her accident. As long as you have that you should have hope that things will get better.”

I let my hands absorb the rhythmic thumping of our hearts. I haven’t really felt very lucky. I’ve been wallowing in pity but forgetting that it could be worse. I could be dead.

“Accidents have a way of shaking us to the core. It’s not just physical healing that’s needed; many people need more than that.”

“What do I do?” My tiny voice is shaking with tears and Pierce drops our hands and pulls me in for a hug. “One step at a time. I can help you. Getting in an accident shouldn’t cost you your job. You were injured. There are laws to protect you.”

Holding my breath as I rest my head on Pierce’s chest, I think back to that horrible moment in my boss’s office where I had to face the very private photos that cost me my job. The vile feelings of betrayal and mortification overtake me, making the tears come fast, accompanied by sobs into Pierce’s shirt.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, pulling me slightly so he can get a better look at my crumpled face.

“I was fired before the accident. This man,” I fight to find the words, not even wanting to speak Harrison’s name out loud, “he ruined my life.”

“Who?” Pierce asks, sounding like he has a lifetime of experience being a big brother.

I consider gushing it all out. Just laying it all on the line. Telling him about how Harrison pretended to care for me, took me on this sexual revelation, made me fall in love with him, and then got me fired by exposing our relationship in the most personal and hurtful way possible. I imagine how that would play out. Pierce strikes me as the type of man who would be quick to protect and defend anyone. He’d offer some kind of plan for legal action to solve this. I don’t want that right now. I want it gone. Forgotten. I try to compose myself, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe away the tears as I pull away from Pierce and stand on my own.

“It’s not important. It’s behind me now. I just want to move on. You’re so right. I forgot how lucky I am to be alive. That’s what I need to focus on.” Nodding my head to try to convince us both, I brush my hair back off my face.

“Jenny, if you’re in some kind of trouble with a guy . . .” Pierce starts, looking very serious.

“I’m not anymore.” Is all I can muster before pursing my lips and locking eyes with him, desperate to reassure him I’m over it. All of it.

The phone rings and breaks me from the thought. I’m happy to hear a familiar voice. “Tracey?” I say, composing myself fully now. “Hey we’ve been playing phone tag. I have a lot to tell you.”

Our conversation goes on for a minute but I feel bad that Pierce has to listen to it drone on. “Are you free for drinks tonight?” I ask, covering the phone with my hand and hoping for a response. “Tracey and I are going to meet up, and I’d love you to come.”

His face seems to light up, though held back by something, and he nods his agreement. “Okay then, it’s a date,” I say to Tracey. “Drinks at Swans Dive tonight at nine.” I disconnect and hope my smile is convincing enough for Pierce.

“I should have told you I don’t drink. It’s just that my dad’s drinking problem kind of turned me off to drunks. Going out still sounds like fun though. I just don’t want you to be surprised when I order a soda.”

“That’s completely fine. Tracey and I just like to sit around and have a gab fest anyway. I don’t know if you’ll really enjoy yourself. I just want to get to know you better and buy you a soda as a thank you for all you’ve done. It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“That sounds great actually. I’d like to meet your friends. It’s important to have a support system. It’s good that you have people who care about you.”

“Yes, my mom has another favorite childhood lunch—canned pasta—all lined up to remind me how much she loves me,” I joke, trying to add a little levity to an emotionally charged moment.

“Oh that reminds me,” Pierce says, grabbing for a bag he placed on the table when he came in, “I brought you food. Real food. This is a meatball sub from the deli next to my house. It’s the best in Boston as far as I’m concerned.”

He pulls a sandwich wrapped in white paper from the brown bag, and the smell is heavenly as it wafts over to me. I yank it out of his hands and tear off the paper. “You brought me food? Real food? Not food fit for a ten-year-old home alone on summer vacation? You’re amazing.”

The prideful smile that spreads across his face speaks volumes. Pierce is a hero. He lives for it. Saving the day, whether it’s pulling me from a car or salvation through decent food, means he wants to help me. I’ve known this kind of man before. I’ve always been too strong-minded to let them into my life. Being rescued has always been a turn-off for me. I’ve always fought to have my footing in this world. I haven’t needed a man to come in and carry me up the ladder I was trying to climb, even if it took me longer. But this is the first time I’ve ever fallen ass-over-teakettle down the ladder and landed on my face. Maybe it’s time to finally take someone up on his offer to carrying me.

“I like seeing you smile.” Pierce laughs. “Even if it’s just because of a meatball sub.” He looks down at his watch and groans. “I’ll finish up on this door while you eat. Then I have to head out. I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Nodding my head, I look at the enormous sandwich in front of me as if it were a diamond ring. Like I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I glance at Pierce who’s on his knees repairing the front door, then back at my sandwich. I have a real lunch, a date and a heartbeat. That’s not a bad start.

Going on a date with one sneaker and a walking boot isn’t exactly sexy, but Pierce and Tracey have already seen me at my worst. They’ll be able to look past it. My black sweater and jeans are better than anything I’ve worn for the last few days, so while it’s not what I’d normally wear to a trendy bar, it’ll have to do.

“Are you sure you’re up to going out?” my mother asks tentatively as she looks me over. “You’re barely recovered.”

“I’m feeling great, Mom. It will do me good to see Tracey, and I think you’ll really like Pierce. He’s a nice guy. Remember he saved my life; he isn’t going to let anything happen to me.”

“I just don’t want you doing too much too soon. I was going to pop some popcorn for us tonight and braid your hair like I used to while we watched a movie.” The sadness dancing at the corners of my mother’s eyes pulls at my heart, but I can’t imagine anything worse than the night she just described.

Headlights coming up the driveway light the kitchen, and I feel like the cavalry is arriving. Just one more time Pierce is rescuing me.

“I suppose you’re running out there now?” my mother asks with a pout.

“Pierce will come in and say hello. He’s an old-fashioned guy. I told you, you’ll like him a lot.”

“At least I get to meet him. You said I’d like that last guy too and then I never met him. Things were going so well; what happened?”

“Mom, drop it, Pierce is coming in.” Swinging the side door open I smile as wide as I can. “Pierce, this is my mother. Mom, this is Pierce.”

“You saved my baby.” My mother sobs, pulling Pierce in for an awkward hug. My face burns crimson red, but Pierce waves me off.

“It’s nice to meet you. Your daughter was very brave the day of her accident. You would have been proud of her. She was reluctant for me to stay long enough to save her. She told me to leave her there and save myself.”

Admittedly I don’t remember much about the accident. I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind. But I do remember telling Pierce to go. I remember not feeling worth saving. He might have read it as bravery, but it had more to do with giving up on myself than anything else.

“We should get going,” I cut in, gently pulling my mom away from Pierce.

When we’re settled into his pickup truck I take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry about that. She can’t help herself.”

“I think she’s very sweet. I’d do just about anything for another hug like that from my mom.”

“Sorry,” I say, biting my lip and feeling like an ass for being so ungrateful again. Pierce must think I’m the biggest brat. I need perspective, and he’s a great source for me. Hopefully I won’t say so many stupid things that he gets sick of me.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not like you’re supposed to cure cancer or anything. It’s not your fault it killed her.”

“Actually—” I say, not knowing where to start. This is supposed to be my way of getting to know Pierce better. I suspect he hopes the same thing from me tonight. So shouldn’t I share? “I’ve been involved with quite a few clinical trials responsible for trying to cure cancer. That was my job. I worked for a firm that organized and oversaw drug trials. I saw some pretty significant advances in my time. It was exciting to know we could be on the brink of something that would change the world.”

“I didn’t realize that was what you did. A very admirable job. Do you see yourself going back into that field? You sound passionate about it.”

“No, that part of my life is over. I’ll need to find something else to be passionate about.” I don’t mean that to sound like a come-on, but as it hangs there between us it starts to feel like one. I find Pierce to be more and more interesting by the minute. What type of man lets an opportunity to flirt pass him by? A flutter charges through my heart as I wonder if he is gay. He certainly could be. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, and though he’s thrown a few compliments my way, nothing has indicated he was dying to rip my clothes off. I feel a different energy around him than I’ve ever felt before. Either he’s not attracted to me or he genuinely has the ability to be a human first and a walking penis second. Miraculous.

He slips his hand over mine and smiles warmly. The heat it sends through my body answers my earlier question. Pierce is not gay. “Don’t give up on something you’re good at so quickly. Sometimes things need a second chance.”

My mind goes instantly to Harrison and the thought of giving him a second chance. The thought that he might even want one. We stay silent the rest of the ride into the city—aside from giving a few directions to the bar we’re going to.

“You’re really going to get a kick out of Tracey. She’s fun.” I take my lead from his earlier gesture and slip my arm into his as we stride to the entrance of the bar.

“Interesting place. You don’t hang out here a lot, do you?” Pierce asks, and the leading nature of his question makes me tell a white lie.

“No, of course not. I just know this is where Tracey would want to meet up, and it’s easier than dragging her somewhere else.” There is an uncomfortable look on Pierce’s face as we step into the poorly lit bar that’s flashing with neon strobes over the dance floor. It’s only a second before Tracey is pouncing on us.

“Jenny, you scared the hell out of me. You just fell off the face of the earth. Look at you.” Tracey gestures down to the walking boot on my foot and then runs a cool hand over my cheek near the cut that’s almost healed.

“I’m fine, really. Just a car accident that I’m lucky to have walked away from.” My gaze turns up toward Pierce, remembering how he climbed inside the hull of my burning car and yanked me out.

“And this must be the guy I’ve been hearing so much about for weeks. The legend in the flesh,” Tracey coos as she nibbles on the tiny red straw dancing around her blue drink. “I’ve never seen this girl so . . .
pleased
in her life.”

I feel a wave of terror-filled nausea overtake me as I realize Tracey thinks the man beside me is Harrison. And judging by the look on Pierce’s face, he realizes he’s not the legend being spoken about. The only person who doesn’t seem to know what’s happening is Tracey, who keeps batting her long lashes at Pierce as she sizes him up, applying every story I’ve told her about our romps to specific parts of his body.

“Um, this is Pierce, actually. He’s the firefighter who saved me the day of my accident. I wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for him. He’s a real hero,” I cut in before Tracey can dig this hole any deeper. By trying to repair the damage, my assessment of Pierce’s heroism makes everything even more uncomfortable.

“Whoops,” Tracey giggles, choking on her drink slightly. “Hard to keep up with this girl; you know how it is, right Pierce?” She gives him a wink and nudges me in the ribs, and in an instant this entire thing feels like a terrible idea. I adore Tracey; she is the person who has literally picked me up off the floor and put a drink in my hand on my darkest days. The girl gets me. But I’m guessing she and Pierce might not be quite as compatible. A big miscalculation on my part. My desire to move on may have just turned into a setback.

“Let’s grab a table,” I offer, trying to break up the torturous tension. “That one over in the corner is open.”

I have to tug Pierce slightly, and I feel terrible for putting him through this. Obviously, it’s not his scene and now he has to hear those comments from Tracey. Who knows what’s going through his head?

“I’ll go get us some drinks. You want the usual, Jenny? How about you, Pierce, you strike me as a scotch man. On the rocks?”

“I’m good,” Pierce retorts flatly, waving her off. I had meant to shoot Tracey a text about Pierce not drinking to take the awkwardness out of the moment, but I’d totally spaced out.

“Don’t worry about me buying a drink for you, sweetie. I know some guys think that’s not right, but I
don’t
buy anyway. The girls here do the buying,” Tracey says, shoving her hands up under her breasts and shifting them slightly as she laughs. Tracey’s already had a few drinks. I can tell by the slight slur in her speech, and normally I’d be keeping pace with her, and laughing my ass off at that joke. Instead my cheeks burn with embarrassment for Pierce.

“I don’t drink. But I’ll take a water if you’re going up,” Pierce says, clearly just trying to get Tracey to drop her hands from her chest.

“You don’t drink? Well how are we going to have any fun tonight?” Tracey pouts as she shuffles away with a shrug.

“I’m so sorry” is all I can squeak out as I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming here tonight.”

“Everyone has a friend like that. Don’t sweat it. I went to school with plenty of guys who were train wrecks, and you try to hold onto a friendship with them, but at some point you just outgrow it. I can deal with it for a night. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

Instant relief fills my body, but that last little corner that isn’t filled up by that feeling is marked with a twinge of anger. Tracey isn’t a train wreck. She’s young and fun, and on most nights I’d be right there with her. I don’t want to outgrow her.

This night turns out to be longer than any I remember in recent history. At least during the long nights in the hospital I had sedatives. Here it’s plagued with very awkward dialogue and two spilled drinks, one of which soaks Pierce’s pant leg. I give him credit he’s been very cool through all of it. But when Tracey crosses the room, tosses her arms around a man on the dance floor, and begins passionately kissing him, Pierce seems to have reached his breaking point.

“Is she serious right now? Does she even know that guy?” He points across the room and I see Tracey’s legs wrapping around the man as they fall into an empty booth.

“Probably not,” I shrug, but when Pierce’s face falls flat, I let mine do the same, feeling a little guilty for judging my friend.

“That’s really dangerous to hook up with random guys and stumble around drunk. Have you talked to her about getting help?” Pierce slides his large warm hand over mine, and the feeling of being connected to someone again overtakes me. I don’t think Tracey really needs any help at all. She’s just trying to make her way through this life as an early thirty-something, single female in a busy city. It’s not easy. But Pierce seems to be genuinely concerned, and I wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe Tracey has been approaching things all wrong. Maybe we both have. It certainly hasn’t gotten either of us very far.

“I haven’t really said anything to her. She’s my friend, and it’s not easy being a woman these days. She’s just doing her best.” I know I’m partially talking about myself, making a case to a man who looks at me in a very sincere way. I want to preserve that.

“That’s no excuse. Women who live this wild lifestyle always get hurt, either physically or emotionally. There isn’t anything good that comes from taking risks like that. Maybe I’ve answered too many domestic calls, but in my experience how you get hurt is a direct reflection of how you live your life.”

“That sounds an awful lot like blaming the victim. She shouldn’t have dressed so provocatively if she didn’t want to be yanked into that alley and raped.” My tone is harsh, my hand rigid below his. As a woman I take exception to this argument. There is no excuse, ever, to blame a woman for being abused.

“No, that is the furthest thing from what I mean. If it came out that way, I’m really sorry.” He squeezes my hand, releasing tension from my body. There is no guessing with Pierce, his face is as genuine as any I’ve ever seen, and his apology is sincere. “I wasn’t talking about assault or anything like that. It’s more about men hurting women in general. Some crimes are random, and there is nothing that justifies the actions. But I’ve seen really smart women who don’t guard themselves against the pain that comes from being caught up in the wrong guy. You can’t keep all evil out of your life, but shouldn’t you do what you can to keep as much of it at bay as possible? Being sober helps you do that.”

I think on that. Did I do everything I could to protect myself from Harrison, or did I blindly dive headfirst into my own desires and neglect everything I knew to be important? Could I have made better choices, lived a purer life, and ended up with different results? Probably. “Sorry, that hits a little too close to home right now,” I choke out, swallowing the lump in my throat. Going into the sordid details with Pierce doesn’t appeal to me at all. I can’t imagine what he’d think of me if he knew what I did with Harrison . . . and where we did it . . . and how often we did it. He wouldn’t give me any more of his time, that’s for sure. If I want to really put Harrison behind me, if I want to actually protect myself from getting hurt, then I need to do it with my eyes wide open and my mouth shut. He doesn’t need to know what thorny and winding path led me here, but maybe he can help me find a better one.

“Should we give Tracey a lift home?” Pierce asks, craning his neck to keep an eye on her and the man she’s fooling around with in the corner.

“I don’t think she’ll want one. I can go ask though.” I grab my purse and start shimmying my way out of the booth, but he clutches my arm.

“Who knows who that jerk is? I’ll go over there. You stay here.” Striding over to the corner booth, he knocks loudly on the table, and both of them quickly sit at attention.

I can only imagine what is going through Tracey’s head as she stands and walks obediently behind Pierce on their way back to our table. “You want to drive Tracey’s car back to her place, and I’ll follow you guys in my truck?” Pierce asks as he assesses how little of my drink I’ve ingested. Once I got the vibe that drunk girls weren’t his thing, I decided to just push it to the side.