17. The Present
The Present
Carla
“Hey, Ron.”
“Good Morning, sweets. How you doin’ today?”
I giggle. “I’m great. How you doin’?”
Ron slaps a stack of mail on the countertop and adjusts his mailbag. “You gotta put more emphasis on the doin’.”
“I really thought I had it that time. I’ll keep practicing.”
He winks. “See you Monday, sweets.”
I take the mail into TJ’s office and set it down on his desk. The letter on top of the pile catches my eye: New York City Department of Corrections. It’s addressed to Thomas J. Cutler.
A letter from prison?
Is TJ’s name Thomas?
“Carla?”
I jump at least an inch off the ground before scurrying out from behind TJ’s desk. “In your office,” I call.
TJ leans against the doorjamb, his eyes scanning down my body and back up.
“Mail just came. It’s on your desk.” Totally didn’t snoop through it.
“You’re wearing jeans.”
“Sneakers too.”
“Sporty looks good on you. Kinda miss the heels though.” He winks and brushes past me into his office.
I turn away to hide my pink-tinged cheeks.
“Oh, Carla. You forgot this the other night.” TJ’s waving my notebook overhead when I turn back around.
“Ah, that’s where I left it. Thanks.”
The hint of a smirk dances on his lips when I take the book from him. “Your Plan B looks great.”
My jaw falls open. “You read my journal?”
“I didn’t know it was yours. I opened it to check for a name.”
“Then how did you know it was mine?”
“You’re the only person I know who’d plan out ways to be spontaneous.”
My shoulders slump. “Pretty lame, huh?”
“Hey, I never said it was lame. I can help you with everything on that list, you know.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been wanting to go sky diving myself. And I can get you an appointment with my tattoo guy when you figure out what you want.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for all that yet.”
“If you wait until you feel ready, you’ll never do it. That’s the whole point of being spontaneous.” He glances at the envelope on top of the pile and tosses it into the garbage.
“Why’d you throw that letter out? You didn’t even open it.” This might be overstepping but my curiosity tends to get the best of me.
“Don’t need to.”
“Is that what the ‘T’ in your name stands for? Thomas?”
He flinches at the sound of his name before nodding. “Nobody calls me that.”
“What does the ‘J’ stand for?”
“James.” He continues sifting through his mail and doesn’t look at me.
“Thomas James. That’s a nice name. You don’t like it?”
“Nope.”
“Who’s sending you letters from jail?”
TJ slams his fist on the desk and my body jolts. “It’s none of your business, so get back to work.”
“Sorry,” I mutter as I spin on my heels and close the door behind me.
TJ is always so even-keeled, I didn’t expect a reaction like that. I definitely landed on a sore subject. Note to self, don’t ask your boss personal questions.
The rest of the afternoon goes by with TJ in his office. I take messages for him and compile them onto a pad before I clock out. Walking past his door, my chest tightens. Is he okay? I lift a hand to knock but think better of it.
Like he said, it’s none of my business.
The next day,I arrive at work ten minutes early. Roger steps out of TJ’s office and closes the door behind him.
He whistles low. “He’s in a mood today.”
“Again?” I ask, planting my purse under the counter.
“What do you mean again? He seemed fine when I left yesterday.”
“I might’ve seen a piece of mail with his full name on it and asked him about it. Apparently that’s off-limits.” My fingers toy with the hem of my shirt. Should I ask Roger about who the letter was from?
Roger nods. “He doesn’t like his name.”
“Do you know why?”
“Nope. The dude is very private. He helps everyone with their shit, but nobody knows his.” He shrugs.
“How’s your wife feeling?” Better to change the subject. It feels wrong talking about TJ, especially when he’s several feet away in the next room.
“Tired and craving sugar. I’m off to pick up three different pints of ice cream for her.” He grins and shakes his head. “I can’t wait to find out the sex of the baby.”
My smile is genuine, though it’s laced with sadness. “Your family is so blessed.”
“That we are.” Roger high-fives me on his way out.
I don’t know how long I stand there, unmoving, like I’m cemented to the ground. I wonder what the sex of my baby would’ve been. So many times, I’d imagined a little girl with my dark hair, or a chubby boy with Joe’s eyes. How different my life would be right now. I’d be in my second trimester.
“You okay?” TJ’s touch on my shoulder snaps me out of my daze.
“Fine, why?”
“You’re holding your stomach. You’re not sick, are you?”
I shake my head and let my hand fall. There’s nothing in there to hold on to.
Nothing but emptiness.
“You left last night before I could apologize.”
I wave a hand. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry for snapping on you. It’s not your fault and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pried about your personal life.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just a touchy subject for me.”
“Maybe you can tell me about it someday.”
“Yeah, maybe. Do you have plans next weekend?”
“Just studying.”
“Perfect.”
My eyebrow arches. “Why?”
He struts toward the free weights and flashes me a grin over his shoulder.
I hold my hands out. “You can’t leave me hanging like that!”
The bell smacks against the door as it opens and closes. The young girl from last week—the recovering addict—greets me with a smile. Her hair is slicked back in a ponytail, and her eyes are clear and bright. She looks healthy. Alive. Happy. A far cry from her disheveled appearance the last time I saw her.
“Hi. I’m here for my appointment with TJ,” she says.
“What’s your name? I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Everyone calls me Kimmie.”
I walk over to where TJ is bicep-curling by the mirror. It takes everything in me not to stare at his rippling muscles, the way they stretch and contract with each movement.
I clear my throat and keep my gaze fixed on my shoes. “Kimmie’s here for your session.”
The metal bar clanks on the ground as TJ sets it down. “Tell her to give me a minute. Thanks.”
Beads of sweat trickle down his neck and my eyes follow them until they disappear underneath the neckline of his shirt. When I realize I’m staring at him—and he’s watching me with that damn smirk on his face—I whirl around and trip over a dumbbell.
TJ chuckles as he grasps my elbow and steadies me. “My bad. I shouldn’t have left those there.”
I point at the sign taped to the mirror that reads: Rerack your weights after each use. “You should follow your own rules.”
“And you should watch where you’re going instead of staring at me.”
“I was not staring at you,” I huff out before stomping away. I’m acting ridiculous. It’s just a nice body. A perfect body, actually. The right amount of muscle, not too big, not too lean. Everything is in proportion. Everything. Even down to his—no. Get it together.
I smile as I approach Kimmie at the desk. “He’ll be over in a sec.”
“Cool. You’re new here, right?”
“Yep. I’m Carla.”
“How do you know TJ?”
“I … uh … Through friends. What about you?”
“Met him at an NA meeting.”
“Don’t you mean AA?”
“Alcoholics go to Alcoholics Anonymous. Drug addicts go to Narcotics Anonymous.”
My brows lift. “Oh. Okay.” Why would he go there if he had a drinking problem?
“I’m pretty open about my addiction. TJ says it helps to be upfront about it. Don’t be ashamed of something that’s a part of who you are. It helps you take control of it instead of letting it control you.”
“Sounds like smart advice.”
“TJ’s the best. He’s such an inspiration after everything he’s been through.”
I nod, wondering what exactly happened in his past. My eyes find him across the gym. “It’s hard to imagine him any less perfect than he is now.”
“You like him.”
“Is there anyone who doesn’t?” I busy myself filing papers so as not to make eye contact with the perceptive teenager.
“Ready, Kimmie cakes?” TJ calls as he struts over to us.
She groans. “That’s the worst one yet.”
“What’s wrong with that nickname?” TJ asks. “It’s cute.”
I shake my head. “Cute is the exact opposite of what a teenage girl wants to be called.”
“Thank you!” Kimmie fist-bumps me and follows TJ.
For the next hour, I’m entranced by the way TJ interacts with Kimmie. He pushes her to train hard and doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t treat her differently because she’s young, or because she’s a girl. She tires easily and asks to quit several times, but he doesn’t let up. At the end of her session, they sit facing each other on the mat and TJ does quite a bit of talking.
“Carla.” He’s waving me over.
“What’s up?”
“Why don’t you join us? I think Kimmie can use some of your wisdom.”
My eyebrows fly to my hairline. “Me? Oh, no. I don’t think I have much wisdom to share.”
“Come on,” Kimmie pleads. “TJ’s great and all, but I need some girl power right now.”
I climb the stairs and duck under the ropes, taking a seat beside Kimmie. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t really have a lot of girl friends,” she says. “And I can’t talk to my mom about this stuff.”
“Ah, this sounds like boy stuff.”
She nods. “How do you know if a guy likes you?”
“Well, that’s kind of different for every guy. Some guys are more straight-forward. Others are too shy to make a move. Who is the boy in question?”
Kimmie’s cheeks turn pink. “His name is Tyler. He’s my best friend. Sometimes I think he’s flirting with me, but other times I think he looks at me like one of the guys. I don’t want to ruin the friendship, but maybe it would be great if we could be more than friends. I just don’t know what to do. I’m not pretty and confident like you.”
I choke out a laugh. “I am not that confident. I second-guess myself all the time. And you are pretty, Kimmie. You just don’t see that yet. You need to appreciate and love the person you are. Don’t put yourself down and don’t sell yourself short.”
“Easy for you to say.”
TJ opens his mouth but I hold my finger up. “Look at you in here. You didn’t give up. You’re fighting. I admire you for doing this. You’re so young, yet you’re stronger than so many people older than you. You should be proud of yourself. Any guy would be lucky to date you. And if it’s not Tyler, there will be plenty more. Trust me.”
Tears brim and streak down her cheeks. “Nobody’s ever said that about me before.”
“Nobody has to for you to believe it, kiddo.” TJ places his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t wait for other people to tell you how great you are. Start telling yourself that every day.”
As we’re walking toward the front desk and saying goodbye to Kimmie, the phone rings. I jog around the counter. “Thanks for calling Heavy Weight. How can I help you?”
The line clicks before a recording plays. “This is a call from the New York City Department of Corrections. Please press zero to accept this call.”
Uh-oh.My body tenses and my eyes flick to TJ.
“Everything okay?” he mouths.
“Uh …” I lower my voice and say, “It’s the Department of Corrections.”
TJ stalks behind the counter, takes the receiver from my hand, and slams it down. “Never accept that call. Got it?”
I swallow. “Got it.”
“I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
First the letter, and now the phone call.
Who’s trying to contact him from prison?