I Found You. Jane Lark

I thought of her either. She just was. Take her or leave her. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking her though. Yet why then, would she have ended up alone on Manhattan Bridge?

      The microwave pinged, and I realized she’d put my coffee in there to warm it back up.

      She handed it to me. “You look like you wanna talk?” I met her green gaze. “She wants you to throw me out, right?”

      “No, she doesn’t want me here at all.” I sipped the coffee, then sighed. “You don’t need my burdens.”

      Her fingers lay over mine as they gripped the cup. Her good hand, not her bandaged hand. They were cold, and the sensation stirred male instincts I’d always found it relatively easy to keep at bay with anyone else.

      It was only because we were alone in my apartment and I’d been away from Lindy for a few weeks.

      Her hand fell, as though she’d sensed my discomfort, then she turned away. “Some people say talking about problems makes you feel better.” She started running water to wash up the few odd cups and things on the side.

      “Ha, ha, very funny.” She was quoting back what I’d said to her. But if I spoke, it might encourage her to speak too. I leaned my elbows on the counter, and sipped my coffee.

      She flashed me a smile over her shoulder.

      I lifted my eyebrows and smiled too. “Okay, I’ll talk…” So while she washed the few bits of crockery and stuff, wiped it up, and put it away, I leaned on the counter and poured out my troubles.

      I told her how Dad was disappointed I didn’t want to take over his business one day. He was annoyed I hadn’t stayed at home and become store manager in his stead. I told her about Lindy too, about how she always wanted me to be doing this or that, and I’d tried to be what she wanted, but being what she wanted didn’t seem like me.

      “…She wants a box-shaped house in a cul-de-sac, with two point four kids.”

      “And you want?”

      God, no one ever asked me that, everyone in my life had always told me what I wanted. “Now there’s the tricky thing, I don’t know anymore. I always thought I wanted to be here, doing what I’m doing, yet I feel lame. I just don’t feel right. I’m working for an asshole. I hate being at the magazine. All I am is a lackey. I’m learning nothing I wanted to. And I’ve only made one sort-of friend, Justin. But I can’t go back home and be a failure.”

      “You wouldn’t be a failure, you’d be a trier. And you’ve made two friends. There’s me, too.”

      “There’s not much reward in trying though is there? It’s success and achievement that makes you feel good.”

      “You don’t feel good?”

      Her green gaze met mine, questions and concern there.

      “I don’t feel great, but I’m not so down I’d jump off a bridge. I’ll work it out. What about you?”

      Her lips twisted to a smirk. “Clever, but you won’t get my story out of me that easy. I don’t want to talk…”

      I laughed. She did too. Which was crazy seeing as just over twenty-four hours ago, she had wanted to jump off a bridge, and the thing that had led her up there was what she wasn’t talking about. I had a feeling one day she’d tell me what took her to Manhattan Bridge. But it wasn’t going to be today, she wasn’t ready yet.

      She put the last cup in a cupboard. “I’m going to go to bed. If that’s okay?”

      “Yeah.” I straightened up.

      “Are we sharing the bed again tonight?” she asked.

      Fuck, something lurched low in my stomach, but I swallowed back the jolt of awareness, and hid it with a smile. “Yeah. If you’re okay with it?”

      “It’s okay with me, if it’s okay with you?”

      “It’s fine. We’re both adults.”

      “Except sometimes, don’t you feel just like a kid trying to be an adult?”

      I held her gaze and I knew for the first time, she’d opened up to me and said something of the truth, of what was going on in her head. But I knew what she meant. “Yeah, I often feel entirely out of my depth, but you just have to take a breath, keep calm, and carry on.”

      She smiled, weakly this time, but then it dropped away. “Or start again. I’ve gotta start again.”

      “Well, you can sleep before you do.”

       Chapter Three

      I’d slept well. I felt good, much better. Jason had gone to work before I woke, but he’d left me his spare key on the counter, so I could go out, and a note giving me the building access code and saying he might have to work late so don’t wait to eat.

      He was probably gonna try to work overtime to pay for the stuff he’d bought me.

      I needed a job. I wasn’t gonna let him keep me. He deserved better than that. He wasn’t Declan.

      I bathed using his shampoo and soap. I liked smelling like him. Then I dressed. When I put on my satin underwear, I remembered how I’d waved it at Jason in the store and his half-smile. I put on the black skirt, some stockings and a white blouse, then the scarf and coat, and I felt cared for, like no one had ever cared for me.

      Lindy really didn’t know how good she had it, and she was pushing him away. That woman needed a talking to, and if I got her on the cell I’d tell her.

      I hurried out the door. It was already eleven, the perfect time to start knocking on restaurant doors. I could serve okay. Someone would take me on. I hit the streets. There were a few restaurants I tried around the DUMBO area but none were hiring, so I headed into Brooklyn, I didn’t want to go to Manhattan. If I worked back over the bridge I might bump in to Declan, I didn’t want to do that.

      I got a job in a restaurant, in Henry Street. The mainstay of their menu was burgers, but I wasn’t a snob; the food looked nice, and it wasn’t too far to walk from Jason’s. I’d be fine there until I’d earned enough for a deposit for a room somewhere. Probably not in DUMBO or Brooklyn, the rents here would be a bit steep for a waitress salary, and I didn’t have parents to help me out like he did. But it was a beginning to my new life.

      They wanted me to start work that night. I said okay. I thought I’d better start before I had the chance to change my mind. I walked up to the Brooklyn Bridge Park after the interview, and sat on a bench there, for a moment, looking at the bridge and traffic on the river.

      Then I got up and walked down by the water. It reminded me how I’d felt when I’d gone onto Manhattan Bridge. I’d just needed to escape everything, myself, as well as Declan. I hadn’t wanted to keep fighting and trying anymore, or to be who I was any longer.

      The water had called to me. Deep and shifting and promising escape.

      It promised me escape again, as I gripped the rail. I could jump and just not swim…

      But I had a new life now. After just two days. I had somewhere to stay, with someone I liked, someone kind, and now I had a job. Why would I give in to the water’s call now? I’d be foolish to listen. I watched instead as the water shifted and swelled, when boats swept a v in their wake, out across it.

      ~

      When I got home I was surprised Rachel wasn’t in the living room. My heartbeat slipped up a gear. Had she gone without saying goodbye? My TV and Xbox were still there. I looked and saw her coat on the hook by the door. She hadn’t left.

      I stripped off my coat and hung it up, then got a beer out the fridge.

      I checked in the bedroom. Some of her clothes were thrown on the