Jamie

As I listen to the sound of Molly’s footsteps fading in the distance, I slip my glasses back on. The only reason I took them off was for her.

She couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I try hard not to take it personally. In hindsight, I put her on the spot by asking her to dance in front of a room full of people. She probably didn’t want to dance, but she said yes so she wouldn’t embarrass me in front of everyone. I screwed up. I should have asked her in private ahead.

With an exasperated sigh, I run my fingers through my hair and try to regroup. I put myself in her shoes. She’s self-conscious about her body – that much I know. It must have been difficult for her to stand up in front of the entire room and dance. She has no reason to be self-conscious because she looks beautiful. I know this because nearly a dozen people have told me so today. Elly, my mom, my dad, all three of my sisters. My brothers. Beth.

The funny thing is, it doesn’t matter to me what she looks like. Physical appearance just isn’t relevant to me now. It’s the person inside the physical body that I can connect with – not the exterior.

But her fears aren’t driven by logic – they’re emotional. I get that. She’s scarred, both emotionally and physically, too, I suppose.

I need to find a way to convince her that I honestly don’t care about her mastectomies. I mean, yeah, breasts are nice. They’re soft and they smell so damn good. And nipples are sweet when they pucker up like little pink berries. But in the bigger scheme of things… in my life right now, it’s not that important. I’d far more rather have someone in my life who makes me feel good – someone I can talk to and laugh with. Someone I can snuggle up with and spoon and touch and caress. There’s so much we can have together that the little bit we can’t have doesn’t matter.

And then there’s Todd. I know she’s afraid that Todd will come after me, but honest to God, unless he has a gun, I can handle Todd with my bare hands. Molly has no idea what I’m capable of physically.

She doesn’t know what I’m capable of, but that’s easy enough to rectify. I’ll ask Jake to help me give Molly a demonstration. Maybe that will help relieve some of her concerns about my safety. There’s a fully-equipped martial arts studio down on the lower level. Jake and I – and maybe Liam if I can wrangle him into it – could put on a show Molly won’t soon forget.

But first, I need to find her. I need to apologize for putting her on the spot, and I need to convince her that I mean what I say. I need her in my life. I don’t require a pair of breasts to be content.

  * * *

I know this house like the back of my hand. I don’t need Gus, or my cane, to find my way upstairs to the suites, and to my own room.

Jake intercepts me on the stairs as I’m going up. “Hey, you need some help?”

“No, thank you. Well, actually, yes, I do need your help a little later this evening. I need a favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I need for you spar with me in the ring later. I want to put on a demonstration for Molly.”

“Are you going to show off a little? Maybe do a few party tricks?”

“Something like that. Molly’s worried that Todd might try to hurt me. She doesn’t realize that I can fend for myself in a physical confrontation. I want to show her.”

“Gotcha. Sure, no problem. Just give me a holler, and we’ll do it. Do you want Liam too?”

“Yes. Ask him.”

  * * *

I reach Molly’s door and knock.

Nothing.

I knock again. “Molly? It’s Jamie.”

I hear footsteps, and then the door knob turns and she opens the door. I can’t help wondering if she’s been crying.

“Can I come in?” I say.

“Sure.” She takes a step back and I walk inside.

Yeah, she’s been crying. I can hear it in the thickness of her voice. I close the door behind me. “You’ve been crying. Are you okay?”

She gives me a tearful laugh as she closes the door behind me. “I’m okay,” she says.

“I owe you an apology.”

“Jamie – no, you don’t. I owe you one.”

“What happened downstairs? Why’d you walk away?”

“I’m sorry. It was just too much. Everyone was looking at us, and your mom… she was crying. I think quite a few people in that room are convinced there’s something going on between us.”

“Isn’t there?”

She makes a pained sound of protest. “Jamie, I told you, we can’t. I can’t.”

“Why not? You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything for me. So why can’t there be something between us? Is it because of this?” I take off my glasses and slip them into my jacket pocket.

“Oh, my God, no!” she says, clearly insulted at the accusation. 

“Then why?”

“You know why!”

“I want you to tell me. Is it because of your body, or because of Todd? Because personally, I don’t see either issue as a problem. I told you, I don’t care about your breasts, and I also told you I’m not worried about Todd.”

She makes a frustrated sound – something that sounds an awful lot like a growl – and I have to bite my lip not to laugh. Here she is, all twisted up inside over things I think are nonissues.

“Molly.” When I reach out for her, my hands come into contact with soft fleece fabric. “You changed?”

“Yes. I’m done for the evening. I thought I’d stay here in my room and relax, maybe watch a movie.”

“I was hoping you’d come downstairs with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

“Do I have to get dressed up again?”

“No. You can wear whatever’s comfortable. I’ll be changing into workout clothes for this.”

“Oh?” She sounds intrigued.

“Yeah. Come with me. Please.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding curious.

I’m going to give her a show she won’t soon forget, and I hope at least one of her concerns will be laid to rest. Then, I’ll just have to convince her that I mean what I say when I tell her I don’t care that she doesn’t have breasts.

  * * *

While Molly goes into the bathroom to change, I message Jake:

We’ll be on our way downstairs. Are you ready?

His answer:

Anytime

A few moments later, Molly comes out of the bathroom. “Okay, let’s go see this thing you want me to see.”

We walk down two flights of stairs to the lower level, where there’s a completely outfitted workout room. It’s all here… free weights, weight machines, treadmills and stationary bikes, a boxing ring, and mats for martial arts. As we approach the workout room, I pause with Molly outside the observation window. I know Jake’s in there. I can hear him hitting the punching bags – warming up.

“Who’s in there?” I ask her.

“Jake and Liam.”

“Let’s go in.” I open the door for Molly, and she walks inside. I can hear Jake punishing the bag with rapid-fire punches, grunting with exertion.

“Oh, my God,” she says, and I presume she’s watching Jake.

I don’t have to see my brother to remember the intensity with which he works out, driving himself to the limits of his endurance. I’m sure he’s already hot and sweaty, and if he’s not wearing gloves, then his knuckles are bloody.

“Is he wearing gloves?” I ask.

“No,” she says in a subdued, slightly-horrified voice. 

“Typical. Jake’s a brute.”

“Hey, guys,” Liam says as he approaches. “What’s up?”

“I thought I’d go a few rounds in the ring with Jake,” I say. “You want to referee?”

“Go a few rounds doing what?” Molly says, sounding worried.

“Sure,” Liam says. “Let’s do it.”

“Do what?” Molly says, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

At least now I have her attention.