Loverboy (7 page)

“I really am sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Really. Not a big deal at all.”

“It was a little unprofessional on my part,” she tells me. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay in the room with me to begin with, Nick.” She pauses. “Andrews.” I look over my shoulder as she purses her lips and sadness washes down her face. “Officer Andrews.”

I shake my head. “It’s Nick. Just Nick. I like that better anyway.”

She smiles nervously. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I shake my head again. “You didn’t, truthfully.”

“It just kind of,” she pauses, “came out, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I could tell,” I smile. “Look, don’t worry about it, please? It’s not a bad thing.”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s not?”

Not a bad thing? I pause, letting my mind wander. It really isn’t a bad thing. She’d basically called me by my own first name, nothing bad or wrong about that. Nothing terrible. She just called me Nicky. My mom has called me Nicky before. Not in the tone Charlie had used. She sounded more…more…I still can’t put my finger on it.

I snap out of my funk and shake my head. “No, it’s not a bad thing.”

She smiles again, and proceeds to rock back and forth on her toes. Another habit that I’m picking up on. She seems to be nervous, on edge, and worried when she does it. It’s rather cute. I find myself smiling wide. “Charlie, please don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if it’s not a bad thing, then why did you get up and leave?” She asks.

Always full of questions; some of which I have no idea what the answer is, since I haven’t thought of that myself. “It just really surprised me, I guess. We’ve always had such a professional relationship.” I smile. “Here, why don’t we get some air on the balcony? It could do us both some good,” I say, standing, to head for the large double doors.

“As in, go outside?” She asks as I pull the doors wide open.
             

I nod, “Fresh air is good for us; take some deep breaths and unwind.”

She licks her lips and finally shakes her head. “I don’t think I can do that,” she admits.
,
“It’s been a while since I’ve been outside.”

“Well, now is as good of a time as any.” I smile. “C’mon, I’ll be right out here with you.”

She gives me another odd look, and, finally, I step in close enough to take her hand in mine. “I’ll be right next to you.”

“What if…” She starts.

I won’t let her finish. “No what if’s. Just relax. It’s just the two of us. Alone. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

She finally nods, and I lead her onto the balcony. I feel her hand tremble as I walk her to the banister.

“I used to love being outside,” she says, softly, looking out.

“There’s no reason to stop loving it,” I tell her. “Don’t let him take away things that you love the most in your life. That’s letting him win, Charlie.” I smile. “It’s perfectly okay to force yourself to take baby steps. This is a baby step.”

She smiles. “Thank you. Sometimes I think you’re more understanding than other people, even that counselor they had me call a few days ago.” She laughs softly, “He’s already trying to push me outdoors; he doesn’t understand the ‘I’ll go when I’m ready’ part. Or the part that I have talked to him once.”

“Some people don’t,” I tell her. “They want you to jump right into the deep end.”

“Well,” she says, “it’s a little known fact that I’m terrified of deep water.”

She glances over at me; her eyes begin to change as
they’re fueled by curiosity. She focuses hard on something, and I watch her contently as she licks her lips and cocks her head to the side. Her lips curl at the corners as her hand moves slowly over to me. I don’t know what she was looking at until I feel her pushing up the sleeve of my tee shirt. My tattoo. I stand perfectly still for a moment, while she takes a moment to examine it carefully. The gray police badge, my grandfather’s own badge number printed plain on the front and the flag behind it, wrapping partially around my arm. The words,
“They can’t hurt you, unless you let them”
scripted carefully below it.

“You have a tattoo,” she says softly. “It’s beautiful.” She looks up at me. “It must mean something.”

I nod. My tattoo was just that, and I normally kept it hidden.

“What does it stand for?” She asks curiously, her fingernail tracing tenderly over the words.

“My grandfather,” I can feel myself choke up as I speak. “He was a cop too, killed in a drug bust gone wrong.”

“Nick, I’m so sorry,” she tells me, laying her warm hand tenderly on my tattoo. “I could tell you the long story, or I could just show you.” She turns her back to me and raises her tank top. There, along her entire back, is a Phoenix; a beautiful, emerald eyed Phoenix rising from the flames. Its wing span is so wide, the tips past to her sides.

“Charlie, this is amazing,” I tell her. I look closer; ashes are falling from the feathers on the wings, his talons clenched as he majestically rises again. I place a few fingertips along the artwork. Such immaculate detail, even at the most tiniest points.

“For my friend.” She pauses. “My best friend, actually. He was killed in,” she takes a breath, “A bad accident. A drunk driver. He always told me the Phoenix would always rise from the flames. He said I would always rise too.” I can hear a slight smile in her voice. “I know it’s why I fought, and it’s how I pushed myself to fight him.” She slowly tugs down her top, and turns to me again. I suddenly feel as though I am seeing a side of Charlie I doubt many people had seen.

I smile. “I am sorry about your friend. But, your tattoo is amazing.”

She nods. “Thank you.” She gives me a slight smile. “I do love being out here, but
,
I think I’m going to head back inside. It’s kind of cold.”

I nod. “I understand; I’ll be back in a bit.”

She turns to walk inside, and I can’t help but stare at her lower back and wonder how many people had seen the ink that was so precious to her. Part of me feels special that she bared so much to me. I take a deep breath of air and rub at my face. There’s an unseasonable chill in the air, and after I take in more of the cold than I can handle, I make my way inside and I shut the door behind me, making sure to lock it and double check it. Charlie is sitting on her couch, Indian style, thumbing through an old copy of a Jane Austin novel.

She looks up, smiling. “Thank you for letting me peek at it.” She gestures toward my bicep. “I’m going to guess only a handful of people have seen.”

I nod. “Likewise; I’m sure it’s the same for yours.” I take a seat next to her.

She nods. “My family and a few choice friends, that’s it. My mom, of course, hated it.” She takes a moment to take a breath and release it. “One more reason that she and I have a strained relationship.”

I give her a tender pat on the shoulder. “She will come around.” I smile. “And besides, mine was like that too, but she adjusted. She always said she couldn’t understand putting such a permanent thing on one’s body”

“That sounds just like a typical mom.” She laughs, tucking some stray hair behind her ear.

I laugh, and she glances at me from the corner of her eyes, smiling slightly. I smile back. “You really are beautiful.” It is out before I can even think to catch it. Out before I even realize what I just said.

She looks down as the cute shade of pink tints her cheeks, and she glances up at me from under her eyelashes. “What?”

I run a hand through my hair and down the back of my neck. “I’m,” I pause. “I’m sorry. That just came out.” I laugh, nervously. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“But, you think I’m beautiful?” She asks.

I’m not sure how to reply. I’m not even sure I know how to speak at this point. So, I do what I know I can do. I nod and smile. Easy enough and she can at least understand that. I almost feel my own face growing warm as I let out a breath of air.

“For what it’s worth,” she smiles, “thank you. It’s been a really long time since I’ve heard anyone say anything like that.”

“A person’s a damn fool not to think so,” I say.

“Well, thank you.” She smiles, her cheeks filling up with pink once again.

“Charlie, I really am so sorry that this has happened to you,” I tell her. “No one deserves this to happen to them.”

“That means a lot,” she says. “And, I’m sure you’re right and with time it will get better.”

I smile and begin to think for a moment. “I have an idea,” I say. “How about we go out?” I suggest.

“Out?” She asks. “Like completely outside, out?”

I nod. “Out, for a walk, a drive; maybe grab some pie.”

“Isn’t it too late?” She asks, glancing back at the wall clock in her kitchen.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Is it safe?” She asks.

I nod.
,
“You know I’m not going to let anyone or anything hurt you.”

She thinks for a moment. She’s nervous, she’s scared, and she isn’t sure what to do. She looks into my eyes, and I grin. Finally, she gives me a nod.

I smile. “Let’s go.”

“Well, wait,” she says. “Where exactly are we going? I look terrible.”

“Just out,” I say. “We both really need to get out of this apartment. We’ve been looking at walls for too long now. And, now is as good of a time as any.”

She nods as she rushes to her bedroom and returns with an oversized hooded sweatshirt that she begins tugging over her head. “Nick, I won’t lie, I’m scared,” she
admits. “I’m terrified, actually.”

“I know, I can tell, but that’s natural,” I tell her. “With time, it will pass. But, you have to get out there sometime, and you did great on the balcony.” I smile. “Are you hungry?” I ask. “I know this great little pie shop.”

“Pie?” She questions. “You were serious. This late at night?”

“That’s the only time you can have it,” I explain. “I know this from experience.” I smile. “My sisters and I would always sneak down into the kitchen in the middle of the night for our mom’s homemade pies.”

She lets out a slight laugh. “Sounds like you love pie.”

“There is no better thing on this Earth than pie.” I smile.

She laughs again, but I notice her pause as we stand in front of her apartment door.

“You’re allowed to go outside, Charlie,” I remind her. “That’s why I’m here, so you can move forward.”

She glances over at me with tears in her eyes and nods. I open the door and carefully lock it behind us. I notice that as we trail down the steps to the main level Charlie is a little shaky and pushes herself a little closer to me. I open the secured entrance, and she stops only to take a deep breath, but as soon as we step out into the night air I feel her suddenly cling onto my arm while we walk the short distance to my truck. I pretend to not notice as I usher her to the passenger side and hold the door open for her. I wait patiently as she climbs in, before walking over to my own door and lock them behind us. I glance over at her and hold my breath as I wait for her to slowly relax. Slowly, I see her muscles loosen as she reaches for the seat belt. As I drive to the pie shop, I casually watch her from the corner of my eyes as she stares quietly out the window. Every so often her eyes grow wide with excitement, as though it’s the first time she’s ever seen New York City. She’s beautiful, and in this moment she seems happy, content, and looks as though she feels safe. It’s enough to make me feel good as I smile to myself and she enjoys her view out the window.

* * * * * *

“It feels like it’s been so long since I have been out in public.” She sighs, taking a small bite of pie. “And, I had to do it while looking like this.” She grumbles as she motions to her over sized sweat
shirt and messy bun.

“You look wonderful,” I say. “It takes time, and before you long you will be going out every day.” I take a cautious drink of coffee. “Everything has its own time frame.”

She nods and leans slowly back into the booth. “I know it’s been a while, and I should be getting out more or at least trying to but at the same time, I know,” she pauses. “I know he’s out there.”

I nod. “I know. And, I know it’s hard.”

“But, like you said, sometimes I just have to throw myself out there,” she says. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.” She smiles, having another bite of pie. “The pie
is
worth it here.”

I laugh, having another drink of coffee. “And, it’s not so bad getting out of the apartment. I think I was getting a
little stir crazy myself.”

She gives me a bright smile. “It’s actually really nice. Maybe one day I’ll feel up to going to a friend’s party... or even seeing my friends at all.”

“Do any of them know what happened?” I ask.

She nods. “A few do. I mean, they don’t know the gory details, but they at least know.”

“It’s good that you told them; that’s a good first step.”

She nods. “But, at the same time, I feel like they treat me differently. Like I’m fragile now or something…” She looks down.