Safe Haven

Since John and I had gotten to know each other, it always seemed like he had the worst of timing.

Countless encounters were turned awkward by his unexpected arrivals. He ended up shopping at the same store I was the day my mother helped me buy my first bra. He witnessed me slip off the roof of my house when I attempted to sneak out one night which resulted in me having a broken arm and the both of us being lectured by our parents. He walked into my room as I was folding my panties – of course, that was before we even thought about sleeping together – and he waltzed right into some of my more emotional, ugly-crying fests that I never wanted anyone to ever see plenty of times.

He always showed up where he wasn’t wanted. The boy had a knack for it.

So witnessing him staring at me as I fell to pieces in the grocery parking lot should not have been shocking to me, but it was.

I knew a lot of girls from my high school – and even my freshman year of college – that would have killed to have even a fairly cute boy stop to make sure they were okay when they were having a breakdown, but I wasn’t one of them. Not when it was my ex-boyfriend who looked torn between the anger he harbored toward me and natural concern for my well-being.

I closed my eyes again and silently wished him away between focusing on not losing it all over again and hoping that my father’s SUV would whip up behind me before I was forced to talk to John. He didn’t hear me silent screams.

“Shit, should I call someone for you? A paramedic? Your mom?”

I shook my head no, twisting my head so that my forehead rested against the top of the steering wheel.

I couldn’t look at him without wanting to actually cry.

“Your dad is on his way?” he guessed, crouching just outside of the vehicle, just far enough away so that he didn’t even touch my leg that was hanging out of my car.

We spent way too much time together in our pasts. I nodded my head, twisting my fists as far as they can go with the steering wheel, almost like revving a motorcycle, almost like the way I used to mess with the grips on my bike handles.

We sat in silence for a long time, him unsure of what to say and me still not being able to fully form words with my difficulty breathing. Despite it, I could still sense his worry. “Are you sure you don’t need me to call for an ambulance?”

I shook my head again, before giving up on the whole “feeling” side of the anti-anxiety tricks. I leaned my seat back and focused on the way my lungs forced air in and out of my body. That seemed to do the trick, because by the time my father pulled up, tires nearly screeching as he stopped, I was able to speak even if my shaking hands hadn’t completely gone away.

“Marlow?” my father asked, placing a hand on my knee as he took John’s spot on the pavement. Out of instinct, I jerked away. My eyes flew open in time to catch both John’s and my father’s shocked faces at my movement before my father pushed it aside. “Do you still feel like you’re having a heart attack?” he asked, pushing back my hair from my face.

“No. I just feel exhausted now,” I admitted, keeping my eyes focused on the green eyes that I’d inherited from my father.

He sighed, running his fingers through his own hair – his tell-tale sign that the crisis was over and that he could finally breathe. “You scared the hell out of me, Kid,” he admitted, standing up. “Come on, I’ll bring you home. Your mother and I will come back for your car later.” He held out his hand in offer to help me out and I took it, knowing that I’d need it.

And I did. I nearly fell to the ground as soon as I stood to my full height before I managed to catch myself on the side of my car.

“Mr. Watson, I can drive her car home for you if you’d like.” The offer came out of John’s mouth before he could even stop it. His expression gave it away, but he offered, and John liked being true to his words. “I mean, it’s no problem. I’m here with someone so they can just follow behind…” I watched as he ruffled the back of his hair, the bottom of his tee-shirt raising a little to expose a sliver of his tight stomach.

My father and I glanced to each other, wondering together if this was really happening. My father cleared his throat and turned to the boy that had spent countless hours at our house, eating our food, napping on our sofa, messing around in the backyard and lingering around when he was bored at his own house. “Are you sure?”

He nodded bravely. “Yeah. I just need to find Jared and then I can drive Marlow’s car over… If you don’t mind, that is…”

My father didn’t speak for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you, John.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Watson.”

He used to call him Dad Watson. That was when we were dating, though, and I was sure that it was awkward for him – for the both of them. Without hesitation, my father pulled the car keys that I’d handed him from his pocket and tossed them over to John.

The ride back to the house was pretty quiet. I knew that both me and my father were puzzled by John’s offer and still shaken up about my anxiety attack, so I wasn’t all that concerned about the silence. As my father pulled into the driveway and parked, I felt myself start to tense for the conversation that was about to occur.

“So... Are you and John on good terms?” he asked, out of curiosity.

“No. I think he just felt sorry for me, you know – gasping for air and helpless to everything, you know?”

He nodded, but I could sense he had more to say. “Do you want me to stay home with you for the rest of the day?”

I shook my head. “No, no. I think that I’m probably just going to sleep. It would be pointless.” I was drained. Physically, mentally, I was just plain, old tired. “Mom’s going to be mad… I didn’t get the groceries she needed.” I sighed, pressing my palms against my eyelids.

“I think she’ll understand with all circumstances involved.”

I nodded, slightly ashamed, before facing him. “I think I’m just going to wait for John, pay him for gas and the trouble and then rest. You can go back to work. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

And that’s what I did after my father reluctantly left me to dwell on the fact that I’d lost my mind over seeing a boy at the grocery store and the fact that my ex-boyfriend would be rolling up in a matter of moments with my car.

With a defeated sigh, and feeling the start of a headache edging, I sat on the porch steps and cradled my face in my hands, allowing my thoughts to wander freely.

Mostly, they didn’t. They zigzagged between Halvo being back and John showing up. I wondered what Halvo told people, and if he even told them anything at all. And then I wondered about Noel, his partner in crime and girlfriend throughout high school who knew just as much as he did. Was she back? Or was she still in New York working on earning the fashion degree she’d always wanted?

Who had she told? Had she told anyone at all?

And John – fuck, John was another topic that I didn’t want to deal with. Would he ask questions? Would he be as blunt as he’d been at the party, or would he completely ignore my existence like I hoped he would?

“Should you really be here alone?” John’s voice made me jump and look up with my hand clutching at my heart.

I let out a sigh before shrugging. “I don’t really see why not,” Standing up, I dug through my pockets for the cash I usually kept on me. Counting out an appropriate number of bills, I held them out to John. “For wasting Jared’s gas and for the hassle…” I said when he looked between the wrinkled bills and my face in confusion.

He sighed. “Just keep it, Marlow. I don’t want your money, and Jared won’t take it even if I tried so it’s worthless.”

I closed my eyes for a moment before I worked up the words I wanted to say. “Please? Please, just take it.”

He didn’t though. He remained rooted where he was with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at me with blank eyes.

An awkward silence settled over us before I forced myself to voice the question that rested on the tip of my tongue. “Why are you doing this? Being nice: driving my car home and sticking around until my father showed up…?”

It took a moment for him to think, but when he opened his mouth I wished that he hadn’t bothered to give me an answer, “Because I have a heart, because it’s the right thing to do and because I don’t just abandon people.”

The jab hurt. I couldn’t lie. But he didn’t stick around to see my reaction. With cool, confident strides, he crossed the yard he’d once tromped over and climbed into Jared’s car where our his friend was patiently waiting.