I shoved my hands in my pockets and had a good look around. A hundred and fifty square feet. It was bit dusty, that’s for sure. It needed some repairs here and there but nothing I couldn’t handle, even with my bad arm. The walls needed to be repainted and the floors could do some remodeling, but apart from some things here and there, it was perfect. It was a two story space, with spiral stairs going up to the second floor, from where you could see downward. A storage room in the back with a little space to the side for the bathroom.
I took a deep breath as Mr. Green kept talking about how good my purchase would be, as if I wasn’t convinced already.
“So what kind of business do you have in mind?” he asked standing next to me.
“Bookstore.”
“Really? Well, that would probably do well in this area, with all the coffee shops and hipsters.”
I smiled at that, “Yeah, that’s the plan. That’s why I liked this place, too. Location, location, location.”
“So, we agree on the price?”
“Yes, sir. We have a deal.”
I shook his hand and he couldn’t be happier. Of course, it wasn’t the amount he was asking for, but the place needed some things done, so when I made a reasonable counter offer, he couldn’t refuse.
The next few days, I spent getting someone to help me with the floor, the painting and adding one thing or two.
Faye called a few times. I knew how it should look from her point of view, we hadn’t said word to each other in over a week and now that she was calling I wasn’t picking up. But nothing further from the truth. I wanted to apologize, explain to her that things were still a bit raw to me and that it didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate her friendship. It was just difficult. I saw her as my girlfriend, the woman I would marry for so long that now, knowing she had moved on with my best friend was a tough pill to swallow.
But I couldn’t kick her out of my life. I would much rather swallow that pill than not having her in any form. She was family to me. She still is. So after she called every day for five days, after I felt I could keep my stuff together speaking to her, I decided it was time for me to return her calls.
I went home that day at seven thirty, I got home, ate with my mom, my dad and my brother. We couldn’t be any further away from a family, but dad still wanted to pretend. I think he believed mom would end up forgiving him if he stuck around long enough for her to get used to his presence.
After dinner, I did the dishes, which got my mother pleasantly surprised.
I went to my bedroom, picked up my phone and stood in front of the mirror.
“Hey, Faye, how’s it going?” I snorted “God; that was pathetic, no, no. Come on. How about, Hey, sorry, you’ve been calling, I’ve been kinda busy.” I snorted again and tapped my forehead against the mirror.
In the end, I decided the best thing I could do was to let things come to me. I dialed her phone and waited. After three rings, she picked up. “Wow, look who decided to show up,” she was angry, no need to be a genius to figure that one out.
“Yeah, I… I’ve been busy.”
“Ignoring me, I know.”
“That’s not true. I… I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry about what I said last time. I just…”
“That’s not what I want from you.”
“Then what―?”
“I want you to let me in!” she cut me off “I want you to trust me again, I don’t want you to put this wall between us, Riley. Let me… just let me be there for you.”
“I… can I see you? I don’t want to go through this on the phone.”
She sighed, “Sure… give me thirty, I’ll stop by.”
Faye stopped by almost an hour later. We went into my room and closed the door. I pointed at the bed in case she wanted to take a seat. She shook her head and crossed her arms. She was still pissed, can’t say I blame her. She was trying to help and I just pushed her away. I needed to stop pushing her away. If I wanted things to eventually go back to normal, for us to be friends again I had to stop lying.
So I started removing my arm sling, set it aside and showed her the bandage. Her eyes narrowed as she replied, “That is not a broken arm, is it?”
I unclicked my bandaged and removed it slowly until my scar was exposed. The instant she saw it, she walked up to me and grabbed my arm with the same tenderness her eyes reflected.
“Oh, dear God… that’s… those dots are stitches scars. The metallic once.” I nodded “You didn’t break your arm…”
“Oh, I did, but not the way you imagine. It wasn’t s twist or something like that. It was a partial amputation. My arm hung from two inches of skin and one of muscle. They managed to save it but…” I sighed looking at the pink line of lumps that marked the line where my arm had split into two.
I unbuttoned the collar of my shirt, lifted it over my shoulders and dropped it onto the floor letting Faye look at my scars. She gasped trying to catch her breath. With a trembling hand, she placed her fingers on my shoulder on a circular pink scar. Then her finger moved to an almost identical wound close to my left side.
“These are… bullet wounds.”
“And this one is a splinter from a grenade,” I said, showing her the cut behind my ear.
“Jesus, Riley.”
“I went to the doctor, she said I might regain full mobility in my arm through time… but the sensibility, chances are that won’t come back.”
That I remember, that I didn’t forget.
Faye had to swallow the ball in the throat to ask, “And your memory?”
I took a deep breath before replying, “I have a brain injury caused by blunt head trauma. I have issues ‘storing’ new memories, and I might be reliving things vividly enough to make me think I’m still there. It might be triggered by loud noises or smells, or even people’s voices. That’s what they told me to repeat until I memorized it.”
“Has it happened? That you think you’re still… there?”
“Not often, but yeah. A while ago, I hear a car scape and I…” I laughed it off, now, it just sounded silly. “I took cover and reached it out for my rifle.”
“Oh, dear God, Riley. Does your mom know?”
“Yeah, must of it anyway.”
“How did… this happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready to talk about it. And I need you to respect that.”
Faye straightened up and said, “Of course. Under one condition. Fill me in on everything. What did the doctor say? What pills are you supposed to take, what should you do about your arm? I want to know everything.”
“Why?”
She gave me a sweet grin and replied, “How else am I supposed to take care of you?” I was about to protest, but she held my hands and continued, “I know you want to do this alone. I know you don’t want to feel like a burden to anyone. And to me you won’t be. I want to take care of you, Riley. And I know it’s not gonna be easy but I want to be there for you… and maybe in time, you’ll tell me what happened. Everything I want, is for you to let me in.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying I want to. I’m not doing anything and… I can’t think of anything I’d rather spend my time other than with you.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pressed her hard against me. “Okay. Okay.”
She pushed away and kissed my cheek. The environment wasn’t as charged anymore, and to put the cherry on top, she added, “Now put your shirt on, I may be married but you have abs and I’m a flesh blooded woman.” I put my shirt back on while she asked, “Since when do you have Angie Harmon’s body? You’d never exercised a day in your life.”
“Yeah, but when I got there, what do you think they asked us to do. Lots of push-ups, lots of running.”
“Huh…” she said with a bit of a predatory stare at my body.
“Stop objectifying me, Faye!” I kidded.
“This would be a lot easier if I could get my flaccid-ab bestfriend back.”
I laughed. Little by little, we could go back to being who we were without all the things that stood in between. The problem was that maybe, just maybe, we got back to the way things were a little too much.
Comment