Changing Course (7 page)

"It’s official, my best friend is twelve." I pretend to be exasperated, but inside I'm screaming like a twelve year old too.

T
HE NEXT
morning, I got to work thirty minutes early. I couldn't sleep last night, so I took the extra time this morning to actually iron my white button down work shirt. I wish I could have worn something a little more flattering today. Instead, I'm stuck in this horrible uniform, waiting for God’s gift to women to walk in so I can ask him out.

I must have cleaned the tables by the windows a hundred times hoping to catch a glimpse of Brett before he arrives. I'm a nervous wreck, knowing that in only a few minutes I will have to go against every rule my mother ever taught me about being a girl. I have to ask a guy out on a date. Before I can obsess about it any longer, he comes sexily strolling in walking directly to my register.

"Well hello, officer," I tease the same way I always do. Only today I am so nervous, I have to fight to keep my voice from cracking.

"Hey, Jess." He smiles revealing his perfectly straight white teeth. Seriously, this man is beautiful. What the heck am I doing thinking he would want to go out with a short girl who has far too many curves? I do have good boobs though. Darn it! I should have worn a push up bra today, attracting his attention to the good curves and away from the bad. Ugh, this outfit is bad enough, but a push-up bra totally would have helped.

"Um...Jess?" he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh sorry...what can I get you today?"

"Same old, same old," he replies in a bored voice.

Oh God. Here we go! Come on Jesse, the worst he can do is say no, effectively stomping on your heart and crushing your dreams. Okay, that might be a little dramatic. You can always quit your job, move to Oklahoma, and marry a rodeo cowboy. Those still exist, right? Crap! Just take a deep breath and spit it out. He's only the hottest guy you have ever met. No biggy. Do it, Jesse! Just ask him to the game!

"So Brett, my um, brother gave me two tickets to the Bears game this Sunday. I was wondering if maybe you would, uh, want to go?" I finally stumble out.

"Oh, um this Sunday?" He stands with his hand frozen behind him reaching for his wallet.

"Yeah, I know it’s short notice, but he just gave them to me last night. His company has some sort of box or something. But it's no big deal if you can't go. I'm sure you already have plans or have to work or something..."

"He can go." I hear Caleb say as he walks up behind Brett. "I'd be happy to cover for him at work, ya know...or something," he finishes winking at Brett and grabbing one of the free apples off the counter, walking over to a table.

Brett

O
H. MY.
Damn. It's official. I am going to kill Caleb Jones. I hear being a cop in jail is tough, but for the stunt he just pulled the satisfaction of killing him with my bare hands would be completely worth it.

"Oh, okay, great. Thanks Caleb!" she shouts to my ex-best friend. He smiles taking a bite of his apple and waving his hand in a way that signals 'no problem.'

I silently hope he chokes.

"Well, the game starts at noon so we should probably just meet at the stadium around eleven? I've heard they have food in the box, but maybe we can stop and grab an early dinner after the game. I don't know. Whatever you want to do is fine." She rambles on faster than I have ever heard anyone talk.

"Sure, sounds good."

"Okay then, see you Sunday," she says then disappears into the back office.

I crack my neck before walking over and sitting in the chair across from Caleb.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask, leaning closer with every word.

"That was me helping you out."

"What exactly were you helping me out with? Because it looks like you just set me up on a date. With Jess. Shit, man." I lean back in my chair trying to figure a way out of this mess.

"You’ve got to move on, Sharp."

"Oh, because you have done such a fabulous job of moving on from Manda? You're telling me to move on when you go sit on her grave every other night. Well guess what, Jones, you need to move on too. Manda is gone. Where's your date?" I know it's a low blow, but I keep talking, "Christ, I'm married. I can't go on a date."

"You know what, fuck you, Brett. Yeah, I go see Manda, but that's because I'm the only one who visits her. When was the last time you went to her grave? Or what about Casey or even Sarah." He spits her name out of his mouth like it burns on his tongue.

"Don't make this about Sarah." I momentarily calm, knowing this is about to go downhill, and fast.

"But isn't this about Sarah? Isn't it always about fucking Sarah?

"Shut up, Caleb."

"It was supposed to be Sarah."

"God damn it! Shut up!" I jump to my feet screaming, causing everyone to stare over at us. But their curious looks are far better than the physical and emotional war that is about to take place between Caleb and I...again.

Four years earlier…

T
HREE DAYS
after the accident Amanda Baker was laid to rest. Sarah was still in the hospital, but I left her with her parents so I could be with my best friend as he buried the love of his life. Because Caleb and Manda were not married, her parents made all of the funeral arrangements. They buried her in some dreadful frilly outfit that she would have despised. But then again, what do you bury someone as extraordinary as Regina Phalange in? Caleb just couldn't accept these details.

"What is she wearing? Oh God, she's going to kill me if I let her parents bury her in that shit." Leaning forward, he rubs his hands quickly across his face. "Seriously, do you think I can destroy those clothes before they close the casket?" He tries to joke, but instead falls to his ass on the cold concrete outside the church. "Why is she in a casket? I need to wake up from this because I can't do it anymore." The loss in his voice is alarming. I knew he would be devastated by Manda's death. I wasn't expecting this level of sheer hollowness in his voice though.

"Come on, we need to get back inside." I try to offer a distraction from his quickly approaching breakdown.

"I miss her," he says into his hands, offering nothing else.

"I know, man. I know."

"Oh, you think you know? You think you know how this feels?" he stands up wiping his tears on the back of his sleeve. "Last I checked, Sarah is breathing right now."

"You know I didn't mean it like that. We all miss Manda."

"You think you know how I feel, huh?" he asks again, this time accompanied with a manic laugh. "You have no idea what I'm feeling. Sarah lived, and Manda gets to be forgotten six feet under."

"No one is going to forget her," I say quietly, not wanting to match his level of intensity.

"Have you told Sarah that she killed her yet?"

"We don't know for sure who was driving."

"Oh yeah, your wife is almost six feet tall. My...fiancé," he spits out the poisonous word, "was only 5'2". Unless Manda was wearing eight inch stilts, the position of the driver’s seat proves it was Sarah driving that car!" Caleb steps up into my face issuing some sort of challenge. I stand stock still, refusing to take his bait. He's broken, pissed off, and looking for a fight.

"You need to back up. I am not your enemy, and I'm not going to fight you today. If you just need someone to punch, have at it.” I toss my hands out to the side opening myself up to the physical blows of the man I would do anything for. "Do your worst. But if you are looking for someone to hit you back so you can forget all this shit for a few minutes, you are barking up the wrong tree." Seconds later, he deals a verbal assault that makes me change my mind.

"It should be Sarah laying in that casket."

"Excuse me?"

"It should be fucking Sarah laying in there! How much did she have to drink that night?"

"She wasn't drunk, don't take this there."

"Her blood alcohol may have showed she was sober, but how long did they wait to run that? She was a cop’s wife!" he screams, stepping up bumping his chest with mine. "You know the only reason they didn't check her blood for alcohol the minute she was brought in is because she was yours."

"She wasn't drunk, Caleb. The witnesses on the scene said it was a red head driving. So maybe Manda didn't adjust the seat or maybe it shifted on impact, I don't know. But this conversation is over." But Caleb was just getting started.

"She killed Manda and she killed me. I don't know what happened that night, but Sarah may as well have pulled a trigger aimed directly at my head because she has destroyed my fucking life. I've heard all about her little freak-outs every day, but it still sounds like that crazy ass bitch got nowhere near the punishment she deserves after killing Manda."

I didn't pause or even think twice. I threw everything I had into punching my grieving best friend. He only staggered backwards a few steps before releasing his own fists on me.

It took five grown men to pull us apart. I left a few minutes later, not bothering to stay for the rest of the funeral. In the end, I knocked out two of his teeth and he blackened my left eye shattering my cheek bone. We didn't speak after that day for six and a half months. And if it meant forgetting the day he came back into my life, I'd be willing to go another six hundred years without seeing Caleb Jones.

Jesse

O
H MY
God, I'm going to hyperventilate. Deep breaths Jesse, deep breaths. That was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life. What the heck was I thinking? Of course Brett isn't interested in me. Crap, why didn't I realize this sooner? No, instead I stood there looking like a fool, asking him out in front of the whole coffee shop. I somehow convinced myself that he actually wanted to be with me. First the football game, but then, we'd eventually fall madly in love and make ridiculously tall green-eyed babies together. Jesus, how could I be so stupid? The look on his face when I asked him to the game was mortifying. It was only made worse when Caleb so obviously threw him under the bus. Oh my God, I'm the proverbial bus! Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"Stop freaking out, Jess." I hear Kara say as she walks into the back office, leaving the register completely unmanned.

"Did you see his face? How am I ever going to face him again? This was such a mistake. Why didn't you talk me out of that?"

"You just surprised him, that's all. He probably didn't even know you were interested." She tries to reassure me, but doing nothing to stop the growing knot in my stomach.

"I've been flirting with him for weeks, how the heck could he not know I was interested?" I whisper yell, very aware that the object of my embarrassment is just around the corner. The last thing I need to do is make myself look like even more of an idiot in front of him.

"He's a man. Men are stupid," she says as if it should explain all of life's great mysteries.

"How am I going to get out of this? He obviously doesn't want to go.
Crap
!" I start pacing the small office nibbling on my thumb nail and trying to devise yet another plan. Probably not the greatest idea considering my first plan is what got me into this mess in the first place.

"You just need to pull up your big girl panties, meet him at the game and knock him off his feet with how awesome you are. He may be a little hesitant about going now, but after he gets one look at you at the game on Sunday, you won't be able to get rid of him."