Rebounding (4 page)

SIX

Max

“So who’s the girl?” Trevor asks me almost as soon as we switch on the Xbox, putting in the new
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare
. Whenever he wants to grill me about something, he knows his best chance at getting info is while we’re playing video games. A distraction tactic.

“Her name’s Charlotte. You met her.”

“Obviously. But how do you
know
her?”

“Save your interviewing for the website, Trev. It won’t work on me—shoot the guy to your right.”

“What guy?”

Trevor’s player runs around, shooting chickens. I shake my controller toward the TV screen, getting more and more irritated by the second. “You’re giving away both our positions. Are you trying to get us killed?”

“Dude, I know what I’m doing. Throw your threat grenade so we can see the enemy.”

We get through two missions before Trevor brings up Charlotte again. The bastard waits until we’re in a critical moment to catch me off guard. He’s working an angle; I can feel it.

“I pay rent here too, you know. Don’t you think you should tell me why we have a new roomie?”

I glance at him from the side, raising a brow. “You don’t pay rent here.”

“Yes, I do. You know…perk of the job? My bonus for being editor in chief?”

The enemy shoots at us. I send my player diving for cover just as Trevor’s player dies. “First of all, that’s not your title, Trev. You didn’t want to work in the office, so I gave the position to Briggs. And second of all, the only reason you live here is because I happen to like my aunt and uncle. You, I tolerate, because you’re their son.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. “You’d be lost without me, Max. Who else would keep your grumpy ass company?”

I look down at my Doberman pinscher. He’s lying on his favorite rug, staring at me, tail wagging. “Batman does a good job. He doesn’t annoy me as much as you either.”

“Come on, bro. Start talking. Who is she?”

“She’s just a friend,” I snap, pissed off that we lost the mission over this. “A friend that will be staying here for a while.”

“What if I’m not okay with that? Steph might have a problem with me living with another woman, ya know.”

“She knows, and she’s fine with it. If you’re not okay, move out.”

We both know that’ll never happen. If Trevor left, he wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on me. My aunt and uncle would freak out, and they’d probably move down to Miami, and then my sanity would go out the door.

“Whatever,” Trevor says, giving up. “I’m going to order pizza. Want one?”

I nod. Anything to get him off my back about this. “Supreme.”

He picks up his cell phone and heads to the patio, removing the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

Trevor and Steph both think I was randomly mugged the night Charlotte found me. They don’t know I was downtown looking for Garcia. If they did, they’d be on my case more than usual. They’d never let me out of their sight. It’s already bad enough that they refuse to work at the office just so they can keep tabs on me. I know they’re just being overprotective, but sometimes they take it too far.

I look up at the stairs, wondering what Charlotte is up to. I feel bad about the way I handled her moving in and the rules I gave her to keep her away. Everything about her is screaming for help, and dammit if it doesn’t make me wish I
could
help her. But I can’t be the friend she needs. Life has taught me enough about what happens when you let people get close. It’s hard enough with Trev and Steph. Every damn day of my life I’m terrified of what’s waiting for them just because they refuse to give up on me.

No, she’ll need to figure this out on her own. At least she has a place to sleep at night. That much I can do, as long as it’s temporary, and as long as she keeps to herself. I owe her more than that, but it’s all I can give her without screwing up her life too.

Trevor walks in from the patio, shutting the sliding glass door behind him. He looks at me, wearing his determined-mode expression. Apparently he isn’t giving up as soon as I thought.

“Max, you know you don’t need to keep every aspect of your life a secret, right? I’m here to help. Steph’s here to help. My point is you have people.”

Great
, I think, letting out a sigh. Distraction didn’t work, and now he’s moving on to the guilt trip. “Cut it out, Trev. You live with me. You work with me. And you know about my past. My life is an open book.”

He shakes his head. “There’s things you keep from me. Don’t think I don’t know.”

I run my hand through my hair, wishing I still smoked too. I could use a fucking cigarette with the way Trev is badgering me. “She helped me out a few years ago, okay? Now I’m returning the favor. That’s all.”

He scratches his beard, thoughtful. “How’d she help you out?”

“None of your business.” I point a finger at him accusingly. “And don’t bother her with a million questions, do you understand me? She’s having a rough time, and she doesn’t need you making it worse.”

“Why’s she having a hard time?”

“No,” I say, gruffly. “That’s all you get. Leave her alone, Trev. I mean it.”

“
Fine
,” he relents, not too happy about it. “I suppose it’s okay for her to stay.”

“Glad you feel comfortable with it.” I pick up the remote control. “Now could you try shooting the enemy instead of chickens?”

He plops down on the couch, eager to start playing. “Sure thing.”

SEVEN

Max

Dad’s gonna cry when he sees how beautiful she looks. He doesn’t cry that much. I don’t either, because we’re boys, and boys aren’t supposed to get all emotional like the way Fiona does. But Dad told me it’s okay to cry sometimes, especially when it’s important. I think today is one of those important days he was talking about.

“Well hello there, handsome,” my mom says to me, then giggles. She points down at the bottom of her dress where my sister’s head is poking out. “Fee is playing hide and seek. Do you think you can find her?”

I smile, kneeling down. Reaching underneath the huge dress, I grab my sister by her arms. She squeals, then laughs as I drag her out to tickle her sides. Her brown hair is curled and pinned up on the top of her head the way Mom’s is, but no one seems to care that it’s getting messed up.

“The two of them are precious,” I hear my aunt Tabby say to Mom from across the room.

“Yes, they are,” Mom agrees. “Will you go get the photographer? I want a picture of them.”

Aunt Tabby nods, and then quietly slips out the door. I stop tickling Fiona to stand upright. I almost forgot about the letter. I pull it from the breast pocket of my tuxedo, handing the neatly folded piece of paper to Mom.

“What’s this?” she asks, raising her brows.

“From Dad,” I answer proudly. “He told me to give it to you before the ceremony. It’s really important.”

***

It’s still dark when I wake up, like always. Just once I wish I could sleep in until after sunrise. As much as I’ve tried, my body refuses. I’d probably never sleep if it weren’t necessary for survival. My subconscious can’t take it. When dreams are replaced with nightmares, your mind doesn’t want to stay in that kind of hell all night long. These days I’m lucky to get four hours, max.

I press my fingers against my temples, trying to rub away the headache—another morning ritual. Batman’s tail wags from the foot of the bed. He sees me stirring and knows what comes next. Standing up, I reach for the watch on my nightstand to clasp it around my wrist.

“Time to run, old boy,” I tell him, and he jumps down, then spins in circles by the door. “Have a little patience, will ya?”

I tug on a white T-shirt, gym shorts, and running shoes. Then, I grab Batman’s leash as we head out the door. Before I can stop him, he darts off into the hall.

Charlotte’s there, pausing by the bathroom door. She’s fresh from a shower, stuffed inside a fluffy terrycloth robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Well hello there,” she whispers, leaning down to pet the top of Batman’s head. He licks her in the face. No hesitation whatsoever.

I approach the two of them, shaking my head at the dog. “Just embarrassing. You don’t even know her, and you’re already best friends. What if she was an intruder?”

She stops petting Batman, going a little tense at my voice. I hate knowing I gave off the kind of impression that would make her feel uncomfortable around me, but at the same time, I don’t want her to feel relaxed enough to be friendly either.

“Don’t take it personal,” she says, shifting her uneasy gaze on me. “They say dogs have good instincts.”

Batman sits at her feet, tail wagging. As she strokes his back, a smile pulls at her lips, but disappears just as quickly. I remember thinking how beautiful her smile was back when I first saw her at the hospital. It’s the same, just a little dimmer now than it was before.

“What’s his name?”

“Batman.”

“That’s a good name. I like that you didn’t cut his ears and tail. I never understood why people cut them. They’re so much cuter this way.”

“Cute?” I say, repulsed by the word. “Are you trying to give him a complex? Manly. Ferocious. Striking—pick a different adjective.”

She grins, and this time it spreads wider, lighting up her eyes. That’s when it hits me, that I’m trying to make her smile. I shake myself, knowing I need to stop. Boundaries are important, especially if her living here is going to work.

She readjusts the towel on her head. “I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either?”

“I usually wake up around this time.”

“At five o’clock in the morning?” Her brows raise slightly.

“Sometimes earlier.” I shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Hooking the leash to Batman’s collar, I take a few steps back. I should go before this becomes a lengthy conversation. I can’t do lengthy conversations. Not with her.

“Room workin’ out okay?” I ask, an attempt at being polite before making my exit. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, of course. The bed was amazing compared to the one I used in my old sorority house.”

Great. Now I’m picturing her in her bed.
Those
images aren’t helping with my boundaries plan. I need to get out of here. “Good. Well, I should get going.” I have to tug on Batman’s leash. He’s still trying to get Charlotte to pet him. “Come on, mutt, we’re going outside.” As soon as he hears the word
outside,
his ears perk up, and he runs ahead of me.

“See you later,” Charlotte calls out. There’s a hint of regret in her voice, almost like she doesn’t want to end the conversation. I could’ve misinterpreted that, but either way, I’m not sticking around to find out. I take the stairs two steps at a time.

As soon as we’re out the door, the cool morning air hits me, calming me down. Batman waits for me to stretch out my legs, and then we start to run. Streaks of sunlight dance along the horizon, brightening up the shoreline. This is my favorite part of the day, and I think Batman’s, too. It helps clear my head, helps me to focus on what’s important. Only one thing in my life matters anymore, and all of my thoughts revolve around it like planets revolving around the sun. Today is different though.

Today, when I look out across the ocean, I can’t stop thinking about Charlotte’s freshly showered, makeup-free face. The soft slope of her nose. The bright blue of her eyes. The almost invisible freckles dotted along her cheekbones…

What a fucking catastrophe.

This is supposed to be my time to get away from everything. It’s supposed to be my time to breathe, to think, to plan.

If one brief encounter has enough power to leave me feeling like this, then I have to find a way to avoid Charlotte altogether. Even if I have to take pains to do it. If I’m going to survive her living here, that girl needs to stay the hell out of my head.

EIGHT
             

Char

Everyday is the same. Send out applications. Do online coursework. Eat lunch (if I remember). Then I’ll watch chick flicks or reruns of
Criminal Minds
while falling asleep. I wake up again in the late afternoon, do some more stuff for school, check my emails, eat dinner (if I remember), and then proceed to fall asleep to whatever I can find on Netflix. Sometimes I go out to look for jobs, but everywhere I go, they either tell me to apply online, or they say they’re only hiring bilingual Spanish-speaking associates. Genius idea on my part, choosing to live in Miami.

I haven’t seen Max, or anyone for that matter, since the morning after I arrived. I’ve even tried waking up at the same time in order to
accidentally
run into him, but he’s never there. When he gave me the rule to stay out of his way, I guess he meant it. It sucks not having anyone to talk to, but I can’t expect him to drop everything because I’m bored and lonely. The guy already opened up his home to me. Asking him to do that was already asking more than I should’ve.

On my third night here, Max came home with a girl. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover the experience. I could hear her giggling out in the hall, and I remember having to pee so bad, but I refused to go until I heard the sound of Max’s bedroom door shut. I thought I was safe at that point, and quietly tip-toed to the bathroom so the two of them wouldn’t hear me. Just as I reached for the handle, the girl walked out into the hallway, looking like she stepped off the pages of a Victoria Secret’s catalog. Her strawberry blonde hair fell in sexy, tousled waves around her face, and her catlike eyes were glassy from alcohol.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, swallowing a hiccup. “I dropped my purse out here. Somewhere.”

My face went hot. Even so, I looked around, trying to help her find her purse. I spotted the black bag at the corner of the hall, its contents spilled all over the floor—including one hefty pack of condoms. “Over there.”

She picked it up, shoving all the spilled items back inside. “Thanks. You’re the best,” she says, beaming. Then, using the purse to cover the front of her sheer negligee, she hurried off to retreat back inside Max’s bedroom.

I heard the girl asking Max inside who I was. “Please tell me she isn’t a family member.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Then who is she?”

“Nobody,” he said, their voices fading out.

I placed my hands over my cheeks, shaking my head.
He’s got a life, dummy. You can’t step into it just because you left yours behind.

The voice in my head is right.

I need to get out there and find my own life. Staying in and feeling sorry for myself won’t suffice forever. I’ll drive myself crazy. At least I have the internship starting next week. It’s for an online magazine, a thrilling opportunity to finally put my foot in the door somewhere. This is what I busted my ass for through college, and I can’t wait to start. Maybe I can even make some friends while I’m at it.

A few days pass, however, and I’m still stuck in the same routine. Depression sucks on so many levels, the worst being the inability to drag myself out of it.

I fall asleep watching TV, but something wakes me up. Groggily, I open my eyes. Soft amber light shines through the cracks in my curtains. I let out a sigh. The days here seem so long.

There’s a light rap at the door, apparently the source of what woke me up. “Come in,” I call out, sitting up.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sleeping.” It’s Stephanie, the orange-haired girl. She peeks around the door, letting more light spill inside the room.

“It’s okay. What time is it?”

“Almost six.” She steps inside, hesitant. “You hungry? I’m making a food run and could use the company. Since you’re the new roomie, I figured it would be a good chance to meet you. Officially.”

“You live here too?” I ask, covering my mouth as a yawn slips out. I’m not hungry, but it might be nice to get out of the house.

“No, but Trevor does. He’s Max’s cousin,” she explains. “And now that my boyfriend is officially living with another woman, I have to make sure I like you.”

I blink, not sure what to say to that.

“And…what if you don’t?”

She taps a finger over her lips. “Hmm, let’s just hope I do. For your sake,” she says with a playful wink. “Come on, outta bed, girl. The food will be worth it.”

“All right. Give me five minutes.”

Ten minutes later I’m inside Stephanie’s Honda Civic, music blasting, and we’re headed to a place she describes as serving the “best damn Cuban sandwiches you’ll ever try.” She smokes the whole time we’re in the car, but it doesn’t bother me, because she keeps the windows down. By the time we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, my heart is beating faster, and I realize how much I need to simply get out. To feel some excitement.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling.

“For what? You haven’t tried the food yet.”

“For bringing me here. I was going a little stir-crazy.”

She laughs, and we both get out of the car. “I remember that feeling. Starting out in a brand new city—that can be hard. I moved here almost three years ago from a small town in Pennsylvania. I had Trevor, but adjusting was still a challenge.”

“The two of you moved here together?”

She nods, opening the door. We move aside to let an elderly lady go in before us. “Well, it was more like I followed him. I didn’t want to at first, but I didn’t want to live in PA without him—oh man, that smells good.”

As we step inside, I smell garlic, onions, peppers, and some type of spice I can’t name. My stomach does a little flip, growling. I didn’t even realize I was hungry until now. Matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I ate. Lunch? No…breakfast? I think I only had a cup of coffee.

Stephanie and I stand in a small line of people waiting to order. She purses her lips as she stares at the menu, making her Monroe piercing sparkle.

“Did that hurt?” I ask, pointing to her lips.

“The piercing? Only a little. There’s a bunch of nerve endings in your lips, so it makes you sneeze a lot. I must’ve sneezed, I don’t know, maybe twenty times after it was over.” She laughs, and then looks at me curiously. “Why? Do you want one?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Too afraid of needles.”

“Ah, it’s not that bad.”

We order our food, and not too much later we find ourselves seated at an outdoor table. There’s a drool-worthy Cuban sandwich in front of me, and it tastes just as good as it looks. Delicious.

“So why don’t you live at the house with Trevor?” I ask Stephanie between bites. “Wouldn’t it be more convenient?”

She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m kind of old fashioned. I want more of a commitment before we take that step.”

“Like a ring?” I ask, then shake my head at myself. “Sorry. I have a bad habit of asking personal questions. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “And yes, a ring would be amazing. I mean, we practically live together anyway. If I’m not at his place, then he’s at mine. The thing is, Trevor came here because Max needs him. ’Course Max doesn’t
think
he needs him,” she pauses to roll her eyes, “but he does. Desperately.”

Stephanie looks at me, seeing my confusion, and explains. “I can’t really talk about it; it’s not my place. Max’s life is just…well let’s just say he hasn’t had an easy one handed to him. He doesn’t let many people get close, and if Trevor and I weren’t here, no one would be.”

I stop chewing, watching the way Stephanie’s eyes glaze over. If I’m not mistaken, there’s genuine sadness there. I’m curious to know what she means by that, but the other part of me remembers that I need to respect Max’s wishes. No personal stories, he said. Whether or not it comes from him, I shouldn’t be digging into his business.

“Anyway,” Stephanie continues. “I can’t move forward until I know Trevor is in a place where he can give me a hundred percent, and he just can’t do that right now. Sometimes I wish I knew exactly when that moment was coming, but I’m okay with the way things are between us. For now. One day I’ll get my ring.”

I nod, pretending like I understand, but the truth is that I don’t. Miles and I never had any looming questions; we had everything mapped out in advance. We planned to move into a place of our own after graduation, right after we got engaged. Sometimes I wonder if the missing spontaneity was the reason why he fell in love with someone else. With me, there were no surprises. No excitement. Nothing to look forward to.

After gulping down some water, I ask Stephanie, “So how do you like living here?”

“It’s a helluva lot warmer than Pennsylvania, that’s for damn sure.” She smiles, and the mood instantly lifts. “Miami has its charms. It’s always sunny. Lots of culture. Beautiful beaches, good food—what more could a girl ask for?” She pauses, giving me a funny look. “Why hasn’t Max taken you out and shown you the city yet?”

I shift in my seat, not sure what to say. “Oh, we’re not friends like that. He’s just helping me out by letting me crash at his house for a while.”

Her brows pinch together thoughtfully. “That’s what I don’t get, how you fit into the picture. I believe you when you say you’re not friends. Max is limited on those. But you must be
someone
to him.”

“No. Honestly. I just helped him out once, and he’s returning the favor. That’s all.”

“If you say so.” She sips her soda, dropping the subject, but I can tell she still doesn’t believe me. I don’t tell her how Max and I met since I’m not sure how open he is about it. She might not know what happened.

We finish the rest of our food, and then head back to the car. I’m stuffed, but it feels good to be so full. I feel full in more ways too, full of hope for myself, being one of them. Unknowingly, Stephanie has made me feel like I can make it on my own here, that I can do this.

That night I stay up late, working on a paper for my Critical Writing class with a renewed sense of energy. I want to get as much schoolwork done as I can so I can spend the next day job hunting. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning when I hear a noise coming from down stairs. I stop typing, pushing my laptop aside.

There’s another noise, this one sounding like the front door. I get up and cross the room to the window, peeking out the thick curtains.

The motion lights turn on, and I see Max heading for his car. He gets in, and I’m expecting to hear the engine turn over, but it doesn’t. The car slowly rolls in reverse to the end of the driveway. That’s really…strange.

Once he’s outside the gate, far from any possibility of being heard, he starts the car up and drives away. I shake my head at the curious behavior, wondering why he was trying to be so secretive about leaving the house in the middle of the night. He could’ve been trying to be polite, I suppose. Maybe he didn’t want to wake anyone. Somehow though, I get the feeling that’s not the case.