E. Montes - Perfectly Damaged

Wow. She manages to bullshit her way through everything, all the time. I laugh. “And you believe her?”

My father lowers his tone. “Jenna. Come home. We can talk about this in person.”

“No.” I can’t believe this. He believes her. Short, quick breaths start to take over. Calm down, Jenna. Breathe easy. “You always take her side. Always. Why?”

“You know that’s not true. I’m trying to help both of you.”

“Because of my condition. Is that right?”

“Jenna.” He breathes heavily. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know I love you.”

I do. My father has always been there for me. Even with the differences between my mother and me, he’s tried not to take sides. But lately she’s managed to win him over. I inhale and exhale a shaky breath. “I know.”

“Good. Listen, I know you’re in good hands because you’re with Charlie. Take as long as you need. Just text me to let know you’re okay. Okay?”

I nod before realizing he can’t see me. “Yeah. Okay.”

“And you know what?”

“What?”

“How about when you get back we set a date for just the two of us?”

A comforting warmth floods through me. We haven’t had a day like that in forever. After Brooke’s death, he buried himself in work. I think it was the only way he knew how to deal with losing a daughter. I don’t blame him; I buried myself away from the world the day she was taken from us. “I’d love that.” I choke over the words.

“Good. I love you, sweetheart. Be safe, okay?”

“Okay. Love you too, Dad.”

We end our call. I sit back, lift my feet onto the bench, and admire the beauty of the early morning as I swing alone.

Logan

Seriously? It’s six in the morning. I don’t even get up this early for work, let alone on a fucking Saturday. This sucks balls. I grumble out of bed, head for the kitchen, and grab a bottle of water. I almost choke on it. I’m never drinking again. Never. The fuck. Again. My body can’t handle hangovers as well as it did in my early twenties. I toss the empty bottle of water, completely missing the overloaded bin filled with empty beer bottles. Oh well. I need more water. Opening the fridge again, I twist the cap off the second bottle and guzzle it down.

After Jenna left me on the dock last night, I pretty much chugged the rest of the beers, hung out for a bit, then called it quits. Well, I called it quits after Santino forced me to take a few shots with him. Then he called me a pussy for calling it a night so early. But I was tired as hell, and tonight will be the party of all parties. Last night was just a warm-up.

Which reminds me. Jenna was acting kind of weird last night. Weirder than usual. I don’t even know how to get through to her. She must be strangely uninterested in me—or a lesbian. For my ego’s sake, I hope it’s the latter.

The back screen door squeaks as it’s hurled open and closed. Bryson walks in from the deck with his headphones plugged into his ears, sweating and panting. I’m sure he’s coming back from his early run. He’s committed to that shit. Every morning, seven days a week. He never misses a morning. Don’t get me wrong, I work out, but it’s always in the evening. Like I said before, this early morning shit is not my thing.

He looks over at me. “Hey!” he shouts over the music blasting in his ears. I lift my hand, gesturing him to lower his voice. He removes the plugs. “My bad.”

“It’s cool. Happy birthday, man.” I walk over, lifting my fist in front of me.

He taps a closed fist to mine. “Thanks. Tonight’s gonna be wild. I think there’s gonna be over fifty people here.”

Fifty people is a lot for our parties. We usually keep it low-key and to a maximum of thirty. “That’s cool,” I say. “You need me to pick anything up for tonight or you think we got it all covered?” I ask. I’m pretty much up, so I reach for the already brewed pot of coffee and pour myself a cup.

“Nope. We have plenty of burgers, ribs, and chicken for the grill. I think we have enough beer and liquor to last the entire summer.” He laughs, but I know he’s probably right. The entire shed is stacked with cases of beer.

“Cool.”

Still trying to catch his breath, he asks, “What are you doing up this early?”

I gulp down half the coffee. “Pfft. I wish I knew. But I was out early last night, so that may be it.”

“Ah.” He nods.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, raising his hands.

“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all. What?”

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I thought maybe you were keeping tabs on Jenna.” What is that supposed to mean? “You know, since she’s outside and all.” He nudges his head toward the door.

I look out the window above the sink and scan the outside. I don’t see anyone on the deck or the dock by the lake. Then my eyes catch movement by a large tree on the left side. She’s on the bench swing. By herself. “What does her being outside have to do with me?” I look back at Bryson, who’s slowly backing away into the living area.

“I don’t know. Go and talk to her.”

“I did. Last night. And she doesn’t seem interested. And you seem kind of pushy. What happened to not flirting with our clients?” I shrug it off as no big deal. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Well, I had a little talk with her this morning. She seemed very interested in you. She couldn’t stop asking questions.”

“Really?”

“Now who’s smiling?” he asks.

“Dick.” I look back out the window. “Maybe I can take her out a cup of coffee.”

“Nope. She doesn’t drink coffee.”

“Does she drink orange juice?” I ask, facing him again.

“How the hell should I know? I need to shower. Peace.” He flashes two fingers, turns, and then jogs up the stairs.

I don’t know why, but Jenna seems different than the girls I’ve always interacted with. Girls I’ve pursued in the past never pushed me away. They’ve always been pretty flirty, willing. Jenna is distant, shy, and keeps to herself. Sometimes, if a girl is worth it, I kind of like the chase. I’m curious to find out about her, to slowly break through her defenses, in a non-stalkerish, friendly kind of way. I’m not sure that even makes sense. But I’m damn well gonna try.

“Well, isn’t this your lucky morning.” I announce as I approach her.

She slowly crooks her neck to look up at me. “How so?” Well, at least she’s not pushing me away. Yet.

“May I?” I point at the empty space beside her. She nods. I sit down, stabbing a foot to the ground to give us more of a push on the swing. “I brought this for you.” She takes the red Solo cup filled with OJ.

“This isn’t spiked, is it?” she teases, but something tells me it’s a serious question.

“There’s only one way to find out.” She lifts the cup to the tip of her nose and takes a sniff. I laugh. “I’m joking. It’s pure orange juice with some pulp.” She flashes me a sly grin, then takes a sip. After the first taste, she downs the rest of it. “Whoa. Take it easy there, killer. You don’t want to OD on pulp.”

“Funny,” Jenna says. Then she looks back at the lake. “It’s peaceful here.” She breathes in deeply. “It feels easy.”

Easy sounds like the wrong word choice, but I encourage her to go on. “Yeah? Easy how?”

She leans back, getting comfortable on the wooden bench—the bench my brother and I built together. “Just easy. Life feels like it’s always hard. There’s never a calm way to get through it, to just breathe. Every day brings the same challenges, the same routines…the same everything. And as much as I hope the next day will be different, it’s not. It’s just the same old cycle over and over again.” She turns her head and rests her chin on her shoulder. “Sorry. Is this too much for an early morning chat over orange juice?” She giggles nervously.

“No, not at all. I sometimes feel the best mornin’ talks are had over a fresh cup of OJ.”

She laughs. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For yesterday morning. And I’m sorry about last night—you know, the way I acted on the dock. It wasn’t right—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. And you’re welcome. Again.” I tease.

“Again?”

“I mean…” I purse my lips, lift both arms, and shrug. “I keep saving your life: the pool, that Matthew dude, and then from the evil, perfect house. I think we’re meant to be. After all, how could you resist this body?”

“Wow. Are you always this into yourself?”

“Hmm.” I tilt my head, pretending to be in serious thought, then nod. “Pretty much.”

She nudges my arm. “At least you’re honest.”

I smile. “That I am.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, thank you for all three.”

“It does,” I say. Jenna laughs again. Then my mind drifts back to her earlier statement. “If it makes you feel any better, I do feel that way sometimes. Like you mentioned about life being a constant cycle.”

“Like you’re trapped in a nightmare, where you’re screaming for someone to wake you, but it never happens?”

I nod. It does feel like that at times.

Jenna’s expression changes to compassion. “I remember you saying something like that yesterday. After you lost your brother, right?” she says.

Yesterday, as she stood in her pajamas on the corner, I told her how after Sean’s death, I felt like I was stuck, at a standstill. Me and my big fucking mouth. It’s been two years since his death, and it still kind of fucking hurts to talk about him. But I do anyway. “Yeah. We were really close.”

“I was very close with my sister before she passed,” she confesses.