Page 30 of Jessie's Girl
That smile hardens into something harder, though the regret lingers. “Not what. Who.”
I stare at him, blink. Blink again. Because surely… Slowly, I lower my cup to the table.
“Excuse me? You fucked someone last night?”
“Can you please—” He throws a look over his shoulder toward the dining room door. "—keep your voice down? And yeah. Tracy. From the bar.” He scrubs his hand over his hair again and heaves a hard breath. “After you left, I stayed and had a few more drinks and we ended up talking. A lot. I hung around ‘til closing and followed her home.”
I can’t stop staring at him. My thoughts tumble in my head like a big-ass jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Shock has me by the throat, threatening to choke me out.
But even at the frozen edges of it flickers the red flames of anger.
Is he fucking kidding me?
“Let me get this straight,” I say, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Last night, you see India for the first time in two years. The first time after you fucked up by falling on your dick into another woman.”
“Asa,” he grumbles.
“No, let me finish.” I hold up a hand, palm out before tucking it back under my arm. “You see her again, not only ask for her forgiveness, but you beg her for another chance to be together. You tell her you still love her. And then, not hours later, you’re fucking another woman? What the fuck, Jessie?”
“Yeah, what the fuck?” he snaps, damn near slapping his coffee cup to the table. A little of the brew sloshes over, but he doesn’t notice, all of his frustration and irritation are focused on me. “India’s the one who said she doesn’t want anything to do with us being together again. She doesn’t even want a friendship, and she damn sure isn’t in love with me. Do I still love her? Yes. But what do you want me to do? Spend two more years pining after a woman who can barely stand to be within three feet of me? She says she doesn’t hate me, but she must, to not even send me a fucking text in two years letting me know she’s alive.” His nostrils flare and his harsh breaths punctuate the silence in the room. “So yeah, I went home with Tracy. I used her to forget that the woman I love could give a single solitary fuck about me. I’m not proud of it, but don’t sit there and judge me either, Asa.”
I struggle not to; I can see his side.
But then I put myself in his shoes.
If India had told meno, I wouldn’t fold and go bury my dick in another female. I’d probably get blind fucking drunk, then figure out how to win her back. How to change my damn self so I’m worthy of a woman like her. To fuckingbegher to not shut the door but to leave it cracked. Something other than what Jessie did… again.
“I wish you hadn’t told me,” I murmur. “India and I… we’re…”
“India and you are what?” Jessie asks sharply, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you, Asa?”
Wish the hell I knew. Fuck buddies. One-time lovers. More than friends.
She’s the woman I’ve always longed for, but could never have because she belonged to you first. First and always.
“We’re friends,” I quietly say instead of all the replies rushing through my head. “Since she’s become Rose’s vice principal, we’ve grown to be friends.” And this feels like a lie of omission. A-fucking-gain.
“With one big difference. We’re not together. And according to her, she doesn’t give a damn,” he says, bitterness coating his tone. “So your conscience is clear.”
My conscience clear? Yeah, not so much.
My sins went back two years and were as recent as last night. Absolution wasn’t coming to me anytime soon.
Especially not from my best friend.
8
India
Lena leans around the doorframe of my office, her long dreads swinging over her shoulder.
“Hey, India, if you don’t need anything else, I’m going to head out. There’s a BOGO sale over at that new shoe store in the outlet mall with my name all over it.”
Smiling, I wave a hand at the administrative assistant. “Of course, go. And thank you for coming in. I really appreciate you sacrificing a couple of hours on your Saturday for me.”
I hadn’t asked Lena to give me a hand in gathering the teachers’ lessons plans and organizing them so I could review and make notes on them. But when she called and found out I would be over at the school, she volunteered to come on in. And I’m thankful. What’s the saying? Two hands are better than one? And it’s definitely less lonely and she makes the work easier. I have digital copies of the plans as well just in case—God forbid—the Department of Education request an audit but for bi-weekly purposes, I print the lesson plans out and critique them.
“Believe me, it’s no problem at all.” Giving me a wave, she disappears from the doorway and I hear her moving in the outer office. “See you Monday!”
