Page 50 of Compassion

Fuck, I know it, but it feels damn good to hear it.

I offer her the only thing I’m capable of.

A tiny nod.

Jaye quietly and cautiously inquires, “What happened to your parents?”

The question fills me with dread – even all these years later. “The man responsible for helping create me beat my mother to death in front of my own eyes with a baseball bat. And had the neighbor across the street not been as nosey as she was, he might’ve done the same to me too instead of me being carried away by the first responder who found me hiding in the pantry.”

One hand covers her mouth to try to catch the gasp that escapes.

“That’s actually the reason I originallywantedto be an EMT, but that shit costs and money wasn’t something I had much of considering how I was bounced around the system. At graduation, the choices were go to the military or move out on my own, which we all knew I didn’t have the funds for. I’m just grateful they let me stay until basic.” Uncomfortableness about a subject I rarely speak on has me anxiously fidgeting. “I thought about being a field medic, but truth was, I really only wanted to help people the way I had been helped, ya know?” A small shrug slips in between statements. “I eventually believed I could do that for my own country on a grander scale which is bullshit I bought into when I joined only to realize that it was indeed bullshit and that a lot like the system I had come from, it was broken, too. The difference was…being a grunt gave me morestability.It gavemebrothers. It gave me…hope.” Disgust causes me to sneer and unwind myself from the female beside me before I can tarnish her. “And then all that shit was taken away by the same people who gave it to me when they let me become another form they forgot to file.”

Jaye’s entire face falls, “Archer-”

“Hey,” anxious to change the subject as well as create breathing room for myself, I retreat myself back to the cart, “what if I pick up an application here? Put some of that knowledge to use?”

It’s obvious it pains her to leave the emotional bomb I just dropped at her feet; however, she does. She chooses to do what’s best forme, something I can’t verbally appreciate enough. “Think you can handle workingandrenovating at the same time?”

“IfI get a job, I’ll just work on the bathroom when I get off at night or dedicate my time to fixing it on my off days. I don’t start anything I can’t finish, sweetheart.”

Her bottom lip tucks itself out of sight, clearly linking the statement to something else.

Somethinglessplatonic.

Less innocent.

Something we both shouldn’t be thinking of.

You see what a fucking disaster I am. You know I’m right.

I fight every urge in my body to allow anything other than a friendly statement to leave my mouth. “What do you say we take the samples over to the paint counter and go look around lighting while they mix the shit up?”

Redness finally flees from her face on a nod of agreement.

The instant she’s turned around again, I release a low, heavy breath.

Fuck. Me. Hopefully renovating something will be the healthy distraction I need. The one that keeps me from thinking of an exit strategy to take from this situation and how I’ll have to survive without the little luxuries I’m beginning to become accustomed to. And I’m not just talking about running water or a warm bed. I’m talking about having someone in my life who actually gives a shit about me as a person versus what I can do for them. That’s definitely the shit I’ll miss most when Jaye comes to her senses and asks me to leave. Until then? I’m gonna do my best to relish in it.

Chapter 11

Jaye

I lean back in my barstool seat at No Need to Wine, the wine bar where I met Dmitri two hours ago, on another airy laugh. “Seriously?! You love that book, too?”

“Who doesn’t loveWhere the Wild Things Are?” The Patrick Dempsey doppelganger playfully pokes back. “Do those people really exist or are you just trying to get me worked up?”

“Oh, they exist.” Pushing my empty wine glass away is done to provide me better space to rest my elbow. “I’m not sure Itrust them, but they definitely exist.”

“I wouldn’t trust them, either,” he laughs once more, smile blindingly bright.

What? Why are you judging me? It’s just one drink. One drink that I’ll have you know we have scheduled and rescheduled and rescheduled six times over the past three weeks. First, he had to work and then his doctor friend was in town from Applecourt for a conference and then there was something I didn’t quite understand about a seagull and after that I just kind of assumed it was never going to happen. Which I was totally fine with! I wasn’t exactly looking for a date; however, when he texted this morning while I was getting ready for work, swearing not to cancel, I didn’t even have the chance to decline before my mother was calling me to tell me I had to go. How she knew he had sent the message is still a question I don’t have answered.

Dmitri rests his arm on the bar in a similar position to mine. “It’s gonna sound like a total line, but I really like getting to talk about kids’ books with you.”

The smile he’s offered is playful. “Itdefinitelydoes.”

“Too bad it’s the truth.” He grins wider. “I kind of collect then. Some I donate to the hospital; however, the others are the ones I cycle through reading when I’m volunteering.”

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