15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
I woke slowly, my eyelids heavy with grogginess and a dull pain in my head. I stretched my limbs, feeling stiff and sore everywhere. Oh, right: I’d slept on a couch for a few hours before coming home and collapsing into my own bed. I reached for my phone, a bad habit first thing in the morning, but … it was better than thinking. I couldn’t handle thinking right now.
The first thing I read was a text from Gregory, early this morning. The message wasn’t shocking: He was canceling on our run this morning, with only a vague excuse that he was busy.
I wasn’t an idiot. Anyone who knew him would know, without a doubt, that regardless of how busy Gregory was, he would still make time for training. But I felt only relief, as I wasn’t ready to see him again. Besides, it was late morning by now, and he’d likely already finished his run.
Alone, like he belongs, the ridiculously confusing man .
I was better off running with Jack. It was our thing, especially for Saturday long runs. Anyone who didn’t put me through a confusing jumble of anger and hope and hopelessness and, well, desire the way that Gregory constantly did had to be a better person to run with. I threw off the silky covers and reluctantly rose from the bed. Rummaging around in the mess of laundry I’d chosen to ignore yesterday, I found my running clothes, wincing at the headache that worsened with each movement. I sent Jack a quick text saying I’d be ready soon, apologizing for the late hour. I needed coffee, and I needed it fast.
When Jack arrived, it took him mere seconds to spot something wrong. “Are you feeling OK, Vivi? You don’t look the best.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be? And thanks for the compliment.”
He ignored the sarcasm and spoke slowly. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t be feeling OK, which is why I asked you. But you definitely look tired and maybe … in pain?”
My eyebrows furrowed, and my eyes darted away before returning to his concerned face. “So glad I can always count on the brutal honesty of my closest friend.”
He looked at me in that no-nonsense way that only a best friend can get away with. “Physical pain or another kind?”
I said nothing as I finished lacing my shoes and grabbed my running gear from a nearby chair. “Just a headache. Let’s go,” I said in a clipped tone as I walked out into the hallway.
“Vivi, hold up,” he said, walking after me and reaching out to touch my shoulder. When I reluctantly stopped a few feet outside my door, he said, “What’s going on?”
“Jack,” I replied with a pained sigh, “I don’t know if I feel like talking. Can we just run? We’re only two weeks out from race day.”
“I’m worried about you, Vivi—”
“All right, I’m not feeling my best. But that’s really all I want to say.” I stopped short of admitting that I didn’t even want to talk. Or run. Or do anything requiring effort. Not when I’d much rather drown my sorrows or sleep them off. Not sorrows exactly. Frustration. Confusion. I didn’t know what to feel anymore, but last night had changed the game, and I hadn’t processed it yet. Where could I even start?
Canceling on Jack wouldn’t be fair to him though, especially since he’d spent most of the morning waiting while I slept off my stupid decisions. “Sorry, Jack.”
He was silent for a moment, his clear eyes searching my bleary ones until I looked away. “OK, Vivi. You know I’m here to talk, but I won’t push. Let’s go knock out some miles,” Jack said, giving me a light pat on the shoulder. Then, a bit tentatively, he added, “I trust it’ll be just the two of us this morning?”
I debated not responding, as I really wasn’t in the mood right now to hear Jack’s take on Gregory. Instead, I said, “That’s right.”
We started our run in silence for the first mile along the sunny trail. I gritted my teeth. I’d had enough of the awkward silence. After last night, the very last thing I wanted was to spend more time in awkward silences with a man. Even if that man was just Jack. Especially if that man was just Jack. Awkward silences weren’t our thing. Companionable silences, sure. Occasional angry silences, sometimes. But never awkward ones.
“Um, Jack? I don’t want to talk about my issues, but not talking at all is probably just making things unnecessarily weird, and I don’t need that either. Let’s talk about … anything but me. Distract me from this pain that you perceive me to be feeling,” I said. The corners of my mouth curved upward slightly as I glanced at him.
He looked back at me with a pleasant smile. “Sure thing. Let me just sort through my massive closet of best friend hats and find the Distractor Hat.”
I chuckled. Chatting with Jack might be just the thing. To forget, to think about anything but my life, even to laugh. “Tell me about your work projects, Bel’s latest culinary creations, the start of the baseball season, your mom’s latest boyfriend, your rooftop garden, anything.” I wanted to kick myself after mentioning his mother’s love life; though my own dating stories were sometimes amusing, Toni’s poor track record with long-term commitments was at times a sore spot for him (though he’d never admit it).
Jack’s eyes widened, and his lips twitched. “Wow, you really don’t want to talk about yourself. You hate hearing about my garden.”
Relieved he was reacting with levity, I laughed openly. “I don’t—OK, I wouldn’t say hate, but you know that rooftop gardening is one of those things I absolutely love the idea of but can’t muster any interest or enthusiasm for the details or actual work of it. Especially when it’s just … vegetables.”
“I’ll try to think of something a little more scintillating,” he said, giving me a good-natured nudge in the arm as we ran. “Hmmm, my current work project is not very fascinating, but I can tell you about what I hope is my next piece.”
“Oh, I’d love to hear it. Are you almost ready to wrap up the current one?” I was relieved to talk about something that had absolutely nothing to do with me, especially my love life.
“That’s … somewhat undetermined at the moment,” he said, his voice wavering slightly, “but this next one is something I’ve been wanting to work on for at least a year or more.”
He became increasingly animated as he began to describe his next work project, a piece on environmental justice that was obviously very important to him. I noticed he’d dodged yet another question related to his current work with Irene. But I could let it go for now; I’d have plenty of time to pepper him with questions later on.
As it happened, an opportunity to ask about his boss came from Irene herself, on a brief walk break when Jack checked his phone. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, I stole a glance over his shoulder. “Irene has called no less than four times! What could be so urgent on a Saturday morning?”
Jack put his phone back in his waist pack and shook his head. “I don’t know. It could be anything. Everything is urgent to her.”
I nodded, beginning to understand. “So she’s one of those people who always believe their priority should be everyone else’s urgent priority. It all makes sense now.”
He was silent while gazing in the other direction, where we could see nothing but trees. Spring hadn’t truly sprung yet, so there wasn’t much to look at.
“Well, am I wrong?”
“No—yes—it’s complicated.” His voice sounded a bit frustrated and oddly devoid of its usual easygoing nature.
“We have another four miles, Jack,” I pointed out after checking my running watch. “We’ve got time. What’s so complicated?” I knew I was pushing it—but if not now, when?
“No,” he said sharply.
“No?”
“We’re not doing this.”
“This?”
“I’m not doing this with you now.”
“What is this ?”
Struggling to find the right words, Jack was quiet for a moment before he said, “ This , this thing you do. You want to know everything and then—” he stopped.
“And then what?” I asked, worried that I wouldn’t like his answer.
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Nothing, Vivi. Nothing. Let’s just do what we came out here to do. Let’s run.”
He abruptly upped the pace, leaving me struggling to catch up and more than a little frustrated with his continually elusive ways. It was very unlike Jack to snap at me though; his version of being moody was just smiling a little less than usual.
After some silent brooding, I stole a glance at him and confirmed I wasn’t the only one breathing hard from this faster pace.
Fine, I’d give him what he wanted. I was tired of trying to pry frustrating men out of their shells, tired of being treated as though I wasn’t worthy of their conversation, at least about anything important—tired of, just, well, tired of it all. I decided right then and there I was going to stay home the rest of the weekend, running and men and friends be damned.
When we finished our last mile and walked the last few minutes home, I glanced at Jack, who was looking at me hesitantly. “Not one of the most enjoyable runs we’ve had together, eh?”
I nodded, shifting my eyes to the ground.
“Vivi—” he began while tugging on my arm.
I stopped suddenly and faced him, pulling my arm away. “Don’t, Jack. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me anything about your life that you don’t want to. It’s true now, and it’s always been true. But … it doesn’t mean I always have to like it.”
He met my eyes and then rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. For a moment, he’d seemed thoughtful in a different way than I’d seen before, in a way I couldn’t put my finger on, and only for a moment. “You’re right. You don’t. But thank you all the same. I know I’m not always easy to understand or tolerate—”
I turned to keep walking while still looking at him. “But that’s just it! You are easy to understand and tolerate and just … easy everything. Almost always. I treasure our friendship in part because it is so easy, always has been, and I never have to worry about things getting complicated or … difficult, I suppose, would be the opposite of easy.”
His face was hard to read now, almost stoic but something else too.
I continued, “I mean that in the best possible way. You’re always easy, we’re always easy. Except when we’re not. Which is rare. You know?”
His deep blue eyes remained focused on me. He was quiet but attentive, as if waiting for me to say more.
“I’m not explaining myself very well,” I muttered. “It’s just, just, it’s just because things are always so easy that it makes it extra hard for me to cope during those rare occasions when it’s not easy. When you’re not … easy to figure out.”
He was still silent but began to nod slowly.
“I’m just spoiled, Jack,” I said with a slight laugh, suddenly ready to lighten the mood. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but the timing felt strange.
He finally broke eye contact for a moment as we entered our building, and then he eyed me again. “Maybe I am too, a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m used to you being an open book. I’m used to easy too, Vivi. Maybe not the same kind of easy, but it’s easy and comfortable and familiar, and you know I’m the kind of guy who likes comfortable. And predictable.”
“But I don’t … What are you saying?” I stopped as we reached the door to my apartment.
“You’ve been more guarded lately,” he said, with not a little hesitation. “That I can handle and can respect. But …” He looked at me, his lips moving soundlessly as he searched for the right words.
“But? You have always been the kind of guy friend who doesn’t need to hear all the details,” I observed, “but doesn’t mind listening when I want to spill them. It’s one of your best qualities.”
“I’m just a bit worried, that’s all. The Vivi I know is open and honest with me.” His eyes held mine as he placed a hand lightly on my shoulder. “And … with herself.”
I reared back. “I see.”
He frowned, looking concerned as he took a tentative step toward me. “Do you see? I’m not sure you do—”
“Oh, I do. Crystal clear, Jack Normandy. Thanks for spelling it out for me, since I can’t do it for myself.” My jaw was tight and my eyes started to dampen as I fumbled in my pack for my key.
“Vivi, wait, I don’t think you see. I didn’t mean … that,” he said, running his hand through his dark hair and looking pained. “You … we … I just care—”
“Got it, Jack. Thanks,” I said briskly while opening the door to my apartment. “I have to go.”
Avoiding eye contact, I stepped inside and shut the door as quickly as I could. Of course, that was probably unkind and, well, immature. But at any moment, I’d no longer be able to hide behind anger.
I was definitely staying in this weekend . Nothing could stop me. As the tears began to fall, I sniffed.
No more damn men or meddling friends. Not even Mr. Darcy .