Chapter Thirteen

Thursday Night, Chicago

“Sully, the damn juke box is on the fritz again,” the large, burly man growled.

“What do you want me to do about it, George?”

“I dunno, isn’t there some sort of house trick to it or something? Like you bang on it somewhere?”

“What do you think this is? Arnold’s? I’m not the Fonze,” Sully kidded, as she filled up the half-empty coffee cups at table nine. “Besides, if I have to hear you play Glory Days one more time, I may have to shoot myself. I love Springsteen as much as the next guy, but you take it a little too far.”

“Don’t start in on “The Boss”, Sully. I had a long day and my ex says she needs a new fridge and I just can’t cover it right now…” George continued to babble as he made his way back to the counter, defeated by the juke box.

“Don’t talk to me about long days, Georgie,” Sully shook her head, pushing back into the kitchen door to go retrieve an order.

Sully was unaware of the man sitting in the booth in the far corner. He was all too aware of her though. Her hair was cropped and dyed blonde. He hadn’t given her a second look when he strolled through the door but when she opened her mouth, it was like a stun gun to his brain. And to think, all he’d wanted was a plate of diner fries.

His navy bucket hat was pulled down low over his eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and the sleeves of his denim jacket were pulled down over his hands, where his fingers absentmindedly played with the cuffs. All in all, his was a somewhat intimidating sight. He didn’t mean to be. He just had no clue how to deal with the situation he found himself in. The ironic part was, this is how he always pictured finding her again. Randomly, completely unexpected, completely improbable. Now that his daydream had come true, he had no idea how to handle it.

He raised his eyes from the table, relieved that she was no where in sight, yet still panicked at the realization that she’d be back any second. She was the only waitress on duty at this hour of the night, which made him uneasy. Of all the things running around in his head at that moment, he was still protective, still worried about her safety. His gaze passed, intensely over his surroundings, studying and committing to memory the place she’d run to when she ran from him.

Logically, he knew it wasn’t him she’d run from, but seeing her brought back all the emotions her leaving had evoked in him: bitterness, guilt, hurt, shame, and unbearable sadness. How many years had it been? Months? Days? He used to know by heart. It was like am internal clock that ticked away his sanity. Had he kept keeping track, he would have cracked long ago.

The diner wasn’t dingy or sleazy. Quaint was the best word he could think of to describe it. It was small and out of the way. Had it not caught his eye on the van’s drive though town, he would have never known it existed. There was a counter in the back, not to far from where he sat, with short stools bolted to the ground with cushioned rotating seats. The color scheme consisted of bluish-green and pale purple hues that created an odd, but eye-catching combination. Each table had an aluminum napkin dispenser and two menus already placed on each side as well as a small ceramic vase with a single daisy poking it’s head out of the top.

Justin’s heart pounded so violently, he could feel the rhythmic pressure at every pulse source. He wasn’t ready for what was about to happen. He never would be. He shook his head in disbelief. All he had wanted to do was find a quiet place to think. He wanted to think about Regan. He wanted to figure out what to do with the feelings that wouldn’t go away despite how much he willed them to. There lay another ironic twist. Regan: the person who gave him back some semblance of what he’d had with Cristin.

He didn’t realize how much his breath had quickened. He didn’t know that he looked like he was about to pass out. He didn’t know how pale his cheeks were or that a thin layer of perspiration had formed over his face and neck, among other places. He didn’t realize any of this until a voice spoke to him for the first time in over three years.

“Are you ok, sir?”

His head jerked up, coming face to face with Cristin Sullivan.

“I don’t know how many ways I can tell you this, Bridget. I don’t know where he is,” JC sighed into the phone, tiring quickly at the circles he was running in with his best friend.

“How can you not know where he is. Aren’t you guys supposed to have tabs kept on you at all times. What if he gets mobbed?”

“Bridg, I agree wholeheartedly, but it’s a little difficult keeping track of someone intent on not being kept track of. I guess he wanted to be alone tonight.”

“Well, I need to talk to him.”

“Chicks, is there something special about tonight that makes you unable to comprehend simple logic?”

“Listen to me, Chasez. At first our little plot to get them together was just bid to make to people we care about happy. Well, now it’s essential to my sanity that he come to New York and sweep my sister-in-law off her pointy feet. If I have to see this Jack kid one more time, I’m going to pull my hair out. I don’t get what she’s sees in him. Sure he’s cute, but he’s annoying as hell in that Eddie Haskel kinda-way plus there’s something about the way he looks at her that skeeves me 10 ways from Tuesday. And by all accounts he should have hit the skids by now anyway! Regan has never had a relationship exceed ten days and—”

“Whoa, slow down Chicks. I get it. You don’t like him. But I’ve done my part. And Justin’s been hurtin’ for Regan since he admitted to himself that he wanted to be with her. I think it’s your end that’s lacking here, not mine.”

“This is not a competition. What bug crawled up your… oh wait I know. Gracie’s not with, huh?”

JC seriously disliked the teasing tone Bridget’s voice took on everytime they talked about Grace. “She’s in New York,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

Mischeif. That was definatley mischief he heard in her voice that time. “How do you know?”

“Oh we’re going out to luch on Saturday, is all.”

“No you’re not,” JC said a bit too quickly to be commanding.

“Oh yeah,” she continued, pretending not to hear the annoyance in his voice. “I’m giong to go up and see her office and then we’re going to hit that place in China Town, I love so much. Maybe one night, she’ll come out to the Irish Gondola and she can meet everyone. It’s going to fun.”

“Bridget, I swear—”

“You shouldn’t swear, Joshie. It’s not good for the soul. Anyway, just tell the kid to call me when he gets in. I don’t care how late. Ok? Bye now.”

She did it again. How the hell does she do that? he wondered, his cell still attached to his ear.

“What’s wrong C,” Joey laughed, walking through the door. “You look puzzled.”

“You have no idea.”

By now the diner was empty and the booth Justin had occupied earlier had been abandoned in favor of a stool at the edge of the counter. He leaned in over his fifth cup of coffee, oblivious of the time as Cristin cleared the plates from the last customers to leave. They hadn’t really talked yet. There was little more than a stunned acknowlegment of eachother’s presence and polite small talk in between her orders. With no one left to distract her attention, she couldn’t put off the talk she thought she’d never have to give any longer.

Her reaction to seeing him was odd, even to her. She couldn’t describe it with a better word than ‘numb’, though she knew it was the wrong one. She surprised her self at the informal way she greeted him, like she’d seen him the day before. For a split second before, she thought she shouldn’t even let on that she recognized who he was, let alone admit she was who he thought she was. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that would never work.

She moved to stand next to his seat, leaning back onto her elbows and looking straight ahead. “This is pretty sureal, huh?”

“Yeah,” was all he could manange.

She turned her head, gathering the courage to catch his eye. She couldn’t tell what she was seeing in the profile of his face. She stifled a gasp as he reached out and took her right wrist in his hand, effectivly turning her to face forward next to him.

He ran his index finger over the tiny scars that were left by the bones that had broken through her skin when her father attacked her. That was too much for him. He bowed his head, his chin brushing his chest.

“God, I'm so sorry,” he finally got out, his voice hoarse and gravely.

She heard him sniffle, and knew he was crying. With that sound, her heart broke. When she saw his face, it broke all over again. Raising his head, his eyes searched for desperately and found hers. They were flooded with salty liquid just as his were. “I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I should have made you come with me. I should have told someone the first time I—”

His voice dissolved into indicernable rambling and he turned and pulled her to him, squeazing as though he were holding on for dear life.

“Shhh,” she soothed. “It wasn’t your fault. I was stubborn and proud. Still am,” she laughed lightly through her tears, her hands clentching tightly at his shoulders. “I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to call or write or do something so many times but I couldn’t bring myself to. I was a coward.”

Justin was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “Don’t say that. You are the bravest person I’ve ever known.” He pulled back just far enough to look down into her eyes. “And don’t blame yourself for anything. I could have stopped all of this from happening and I was too scared. I was scared, Cristin. I couldn’t never tell you how much. I felt like I had to be—”

“Shhh, Justin. I think maybe there’s enough guilt to go around.”

He laughed at that. It was like music to her hears. She’d heard the laugh on the radio and on TV, but here in front of her, it was like coming home. He was her home.

“I really don’t understand,” Regan shook her head. Her face was drawn and she sat back, legs tucked beneith her in the plush arm chair Mike had given her as a housewarming present. “The more you talk, the more it sounds to me like you have something to gain here.”

“This is unbelievable,” Jack said pacing the short length of her living room. “What has that sister-in-law of yours been telling you?”

“Bridget has nothing to do with this,” Regan spat, her body unmoving.

“Please, Regan, it’s so clear that she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you or anyone,” Regan sighed. “It’s just been occuring to me lately that everytime I tell you I’m scared or that Boland is creeping me out, you make it your job to make him look good.”

“Excuse me for being supportive,” he answered dejectedly. He crossed the room and crouched down in front of her. “Regan, I’ve never met anyone like you before. All I want is to see you happy.”

Regan sighed as she looked into his eyes. He seemed so sincere. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I’m just scared. Everytime he gives me one of those shots, I feel like I’m slipping more and more out of control of this situation.”

“I know.” His voice was low as he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers.

“Stop,” she breathed, turning her head. She stood, pushing past him, and crossed the room.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just something Bridget said to me today made me think,” she said brushing a few stray hairs from her face.

“I knew it,” he groaned under his breath. “I don’t know what her problem with me is but—”

“It had nothing to do with you,” she cut him off, her voice louder than she’d intended it to be. “She said that I used ballet as an excuse to not let anything new into my life. I never really thought about it, you know? I never wanted to do anything but dance so I haven’t. But everything that’s happened over the last month or so has made me a little scared of what would happen to me if I it all ended tomorrow.”

“That’s not going to happen, Regan,” Jack asserted.

“But it will someday. I don’t want to end up at the end of my career with nothing to do but teach ballet classes at the Y. Being an American Ballet Theater ballerina means nothing to anyone outside of that circle. I mean look at me, Jack. I’m nineteen. I’m going to spend my best dancing years in the chorus and after that, if my body hasn’t given out on me, I’ll be too old to be a primary. Is this all really worth it?”

“Yes,” was his simple answer. “Since I met you, all you could talk about was getting where you are now. This is your dream and not everyone gets to live theirs. No matter how long or short it lasts, it’s always worth it.”

“I know, but that seems so selfish now. I was sitting the Physical Therapy room tonight and he was sticking that needle into me, and all I could think about was my father. He sacrificed so much for this- time, money, sanity. I haven’t seen him in almost six months and when I do see him, it’s for less than a week. A few days a year, that’s all. All for this,” she said snaring the ribbons of her toe shoes from the floor.

“All the more reason to follow through,” Jack shrugged. “If he’s sacrificed to get you here, don’t you think it would be selfish to give up?”

She was being manipulated and she knew it. She knew it and it was still working.

“So what’s her name,” Cristin asked tentativly, guiding another spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. They’d been talking for hours and she took this lull in the conversation as an opportunity to call him on what had become painfully obvious to her.

“Who’s name?” Justin played dumb.

“Justin, you may have always been able read me like a book but you forgot one major detail.”

“What’s that?”

“I could read you, too. You’ve got the look of love, buddy.”

Justin hung his head in acceptance of her statement.

“So what’s her name?”

“Regan.”

“Is it serious?”

“It’s not quite an ‘it’ yet,” Justin mumbled, the reminder of his status with Regan causing him to feel as though he’d just woken from a dream.

“What’s the problem?”

“What’s not a problem?” Justin scoffed. “I wasted so many opportunities to tell her how I feel. From the beginning I tried to push it all down but there was no way to ignore it. I even convinced myself at one point that all I saw special in her was you- that I was trying to reinvent you.”

Cristin’s eyes widened at that. “Explain.”

“From the first day I met her, she was so open, so real. She reminded me so much of you. You’re the only other person I’ve ever known who wore their heart on their sleave like that. I thought that since I couldn’t make things right with you, I could at least help this girl and maybe capture a little of what I had with you with her. I didn’t expect to want anything more.”

“What does she need help with?”

Justin didn’t know how to go about telling her. They hadn’t talked about her wrist and he didn’t know if she gotten past not being able to play to violin anymore. He didn’t want to open a wound. He decided to just tell the truth in hopes she’d tell him about the day she left home. “She’s a ballet dancer. She was injured and scared she’d never be able to dance again.”

Cristin nodded her head in understanding, nothing more.

“Anyway, she’s getting this new kind of treatment but that’s a whole other mess in itself.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think it’s on the level. I don’t think the doctor’s on the level. I think it’s a really messed up situation. Not a right angle in it.”

“Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it seems to be working for the time being. Plus I have nothing more to go on than intuition.”

“Your intution seems to be right most of the time,” she said solomly, fingering one her scars.

They were silent for a few moments before they both noticed the sun peaking through the front window panes.

“Ah shit,” Justin groaned. “My ass is going to be grass if I don’t get back to the hotel.”

Cristin nodded silently as he stood and streached. “So don’t be a stranger when you’re in town,” she said, forcing a smile.

Justin looked at her as if she were crazy. “I don’t what you’re talking about. You’re coming with me.”

“With you where?”

“With me everywhere, at least for the summer,” he said with a cocky smile.

“You were always nuts but this is retardedly nuts.”

“I don’t see the probelem.”

“Justin I have a life. I have school, I have a job. I have an apartment I have to pay rent on.”

“You’re going to get to a point, right?”

“Justin,” she growled.

“It’s the end of May, you’re not out of school yet?”

“Summer Session just started.”

“Is that absolutely necessary?”

“Not absolutely but—”

“Ok, problem one solved. I’m sure I can get you a gig with WEG for the summer that’ll pay way better than this.”

“That’s not the point, Justin!” She was getting annoyed. She’d depeneded on herself for a long time and wasn’t about to let him waltze in and take over no matter how many times they’d swapped tears that night.

“What is the point?”

“Frankly, Justin, as much as seeing you tonight has put into question everything I thought was logical, I can’t afford to pack up and go on some adventure with you for the summer knowing that I have to come back here in September. My life is tough. What school doesn’t take out of me, work does, and it’s a bitch and a pain in the ass rolled into one but it’s mine. I can’t borrow your reality and then go back to mine.”

What playful air there’d been to this turn in the conversation was completely gone and Justin didn’t know what to say. “I can’t lose you again, Cris.” He sounded like a little boy. He sounded like the little boy she knew better than herself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’ll be right here, if you need me.”

“If? I always need you. I never stopped.”

“Dito kiddo,” she smiled warmly, fearing more tears.

“When does this Summer Session thing end?”

“Mid-July,” she answered, cocking her head. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to come and visit me when your done. Hopefully I’ll have a girlfriend to introduce to you.”

The buzzer of Regan’s alarm clock had been going off for a good fifteen minutes before it managed to pull her out of unconsciousness. With her head still burried under a pillow, her hand flew to the source of the unpleasent sound and pushed it off the bedstand.

With a crash, the buzzing stopped and the radio came on, causing Regan to groan in frustration. “They just don’t break like they used to,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

“It is 6:45am, 60 degrees, here in the Big Apple. Time for all you lazy bums to get your butts out of bed and say Thank God it’s Friday!”

Regan tossed her pillow off the bed and stretched like a cat, calcualting how much more sleep she’d get if she didn’t run that morning. She was mentally drained. All she wanted to do was curl up under her covers and shut the world out, if only for one day. She had so much to sort through in her mind.

Experiemtal. Whatever Boland was injecting into her wasn’t approved by anyone. She had no idea what it was doing to her body in the long run. She felt strong physically but her doubts about the entire situation were eating away at her confidence. No one knew how close she was to just stopping her treatment cold. It scared her. Boland scared her. Kyle Baxter gave her the creeps. There was just nothing that felt good about the situation to her. She wondered if her ankels felt better because of whatever Boland was giving her or because they were healing. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how they could possibly be healing if she was on them all the time.

Jack. When they first started seeing each other, it was the fact that he helped her push aside her doubts to do what she had to do in order to dance again. He reassured her when she worried, and calmed her when she was scared. Now she wasn’t so sure it was all out of the goodness of his heart. He was a med student and Boland seemed to be one of his heros. What if he was doing this to help Boland and not her? His sincerity was what drew her to him. If that was in question, what reason did she have to be with him anymore. At this point, she feared it was subconsciously more out of spite, to prove Bridget wrong about her love life.

Justin. The fact that she hadn’t been able to get in touch with him for the past few days was wigging her more than anything. It still made her uneasy that they never talked about the night they’d almost kissed. What had happened to her that night was the other thing missing from her relationship with Jack- the stomach flip. That night wasn’t the last time she felt it either. It happened everytime she heard his voice come over the phone. It happened everytime she saw his face on TV. It was beginning to happen everytime she thought about him. She tried to ignore it. She was always afraid that those kind of feelings would only distract her from her goals. Now, she had more distractions than she knew what to do with and her feelings toward Justin were the only ones that felt right.

Regan struggled to free herself from the tangle of blankets she found herself in and padded into the bathroom to take a shower. She’d run today, afterall.

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