Jay
“Dammit! I wish I knew what she thought.”
I swore at myself as I headed upstairs following a long family lunch. It was Friday and I couldn’t forget that soon—far too soon—it would be Sunday and I would leave. I would be leaving Margo behind.
And I still have no idea if she really thinks I’m a pitiable one-legged man.
I knew my family had noticed I was down. My cousin Carrington in particular had been hovering and giving me encouraging looks. But I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted to do was sit down and cry. It was the sheer frustration of it. I had little enough way of working out all my frustrations. I couldn’t do what I used to do—go for a jog, or go to the gym or kick a ball.
I kicked the nearest door jamb instead. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Pain shot through my good leg and down my paralyzed one. I groaned in agony. Margo is going to be the death of me.
“Jay…” my mom called up.
“Yes, what?” I said. I instantly regretted snapping at her when I saw the hurt look on her face.
“I just wanted to ask if you were going to be in for dinner,” she said. Her voice was all tight, face hard.
“Mom…” I said, feeling awful. “I didn’t mean it…”
“Never mind,” she said tightly. “It’s not a problem…” She looked as though she might cry and my heart twisted painfully.
“It is, mom…” I said. I tried to come down the stairs again, but it was hard work, and despite her effort not to notice, I knew she was, well, making an effort.
“It’s fine, Jay,” she said gently when I reached the bottom. “I know something’s worrying you at the moment. I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, clearing my throat. Dammit, why did this leg have to be so bad? It was ruining my life? I was even too moody to talk to my mom.
I saw that she was still upset but I didn’t know what to say and I stood there helplessly as she turned and walked away, heading into the living room.
“Jay?”
It was my cousin. I felt desperate to just get out of here.
“Yes?” I said tightly.
“It’s okay,” she called back. “It can wait.”
“Okay,” I said. “See you soon.”
I headed upstairs. I knew I was being difficult. I just didn’t know what to do.
Well, I might not be able to run. But I can still walk. And I can still drive—just. I headed to the car.
I mapped out the quickest route to the park in my head. It had been a while since I lived in Milwaukee, but I was raised here and I remembered most of it. I challenged myself to a drive to the park without the assistance of any software and headed into the traffic.
I managed to find the park.
I spent another ten minutes looking for parking. By the time I’d found some I was so frustrated with people driving, people parking and traffic jams that I was cheerfully forgetting all my own worries. It was a good feeling.
It’s a nice evening.
People were streaming into the park—kids on skateboards, people with dogs, people just coming back from work, in suits and smart dresses and shoes.
I decided to take a long walk around the park, starting at the top corner and ending at the bottom. I surprised myself by enjoying it. Weirdly, people in the park didn’t tend to stare at me. Maybe it’s the fact that you have to be a particularly laid-back sort to be getting dragged around the city park by your four-footed pal, but people in parks tend to me more forgiving. At least in my experience.
I found a bench and sat down in the sun, glad to get my arms off the crutches. I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes, letting the late sunshine soak into my skin.
In the forgiving sunshine I allowed myself to think about my worries. The main one, of course, was what to do about Margo.
I really ought to just forget her. It’s what I should have done in the beginning. Why did I go and get involved again?
I sighed. I knew I wouldn’t do any differently if I was faced with the same choice again. I was in love with her. It wasn’t like I hadn’t loved her when I left the first time.
The phone lay in my pocket and I felt as if it was burning me. I wanted to lift it and write a reply to her, but I also knew that I would be better—kinder—not to answer.
She’s a beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. She doesn’t need to be shackled to a lame guy.
I let out a long sigh and deleted it. There.
I sat and watched the people going past. I liked dogs and there were a lot of them to see now. Watching them took my mind off the pain in my heart that felt almost physical.
I saw a beautiful black Labrador with an older woman in a business suit taking him for a walk. Two Scottish terriers came up behind them, tangled balls of black fluff on leashes. They were barking and clearly wanted to run.
I knew how they felt. I wanted to run too, dammit. I wanted to slip this stupid leash that was my own leg and run.
I hate my body.
I was building up a strong layer of resentment and anger when I saw a small child blowing bubbles and chuckling hysterically. The sight of the little face all crinkled with mirth was so moving that I smiled too. And it was just as well I was watching the bubbles or I wouldn’t have been looking down the path. And that would have meant not noticing the tall, dark-haired jogging girl.
No. It can’t be.
But as she got closer, I realized, heart thumping, that it was.
“Margo?”
I stared at her. It was definitely her. I had no idea whether she’d seen me yet. She was about fifty meters away, just coming out of the tree-covered area. It was quite by chance that I’d seen her. I still wasn’t completely sure that it was her, but the longer I stared and the clearer she was, the more it became obvious it was her.
“Dammit. It is you.”
I didn’t know what to do. I was rooted to the spot, still undecided as to whether to run or stay put. Then it was too late.
“Oh. Hi. Jay?”
She was standing perhaps ten paces away. She looked at me. There was no one else around—my bench was in shade now and maybe that was why we were in a little pool of quiet.
“Margo.”
I didn’t know whether I should try and stand or whether to stay where I was. In the event, as she came up I just stayed seated. My crutches were on my left-hand side, an easy reach away.
“You know, I don’t know why I bother,” she said.
Her words were so flat and cruel that I stared. “Margo? What do…”
She snorted. “I mean it,” she said. “Why did I even come over. I know you hate me.”
I was astounded. “Margo? What on…why do…I don’t hate you!”
She gave a thin smile. “Well, if you don’t, you sure do a great impression of it sometime.”
I stared at her. “Margo, please explain.”
She rounded on me. “What is there to explain? You walk out on me. Never offer an explanation. And then four years later you do the same thing! I don’t know why I even talk to you. You’re a runner.”
She sounded so furious that I had no idea what to say. She was still standing there, though. She hadn’t left.
“Margo,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“I…” she stopped. “You’re what?”
“I said I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I was. I don’t suppose she would have believed me if I said it, but this was the first time I’d stopped to consider how mean I had been to her. I had walked out without any word, just like she said. And I had been cruel and inconsiderate. I’d done it twice.
“Well, then,” she said. She didn’t move. Didn’t come any closer. She was still not smiling. But something about her seemed at ease.
“Well, then,” I echoed. I risked leaning forward, not sure whether I should reach out and touch her. I held out a hand. “Friends?”
She looked at me skeptically. But she sighed.
“We’re always friends, Jay,” she said. Her voice cracked. “If I wasn’t…your friend…it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
I sighed. “I was wrong,” I said.
She chuckled. “Well, hurray! You noticed.”
I pulled a face. “Thanks, hey.”
She sat down next to me. I drew in a long breath. This close, I could almost sense the warmth of those bare legs. She was wearing running shorts and a T-shirt, all Lycra and jersey cloth and branding.
“Oh, Jay,” she said.
She smiled at me and I smiled into her eyes and leaned forward.
She leaned forward too. Our lips met.
I tensed, not sure what to do, but she didn’t move away and so I let my tongue run very gently across the line of her mouth and then, sweetly, slide into it. She let it enter and I raised my hands and held her face and closed my eyes and knew I was in bliss.
The evening sun was warm on our skin and Margo let out a long shuddering breath and I leaned my forehead against hers.