Jessica shifted her weight uncomfortably. She could run if she wanted to. And she did want to, or at least she thought so. Her feet apparently thought otherwise. They were leaden and she could not move.
“Jessica?” he queried.
She didn’t answer. She contemplated turning around and telling him politely that he was mistaken but he had the wrong person. After all, she had only met him twice. She realized she was being utterly ridiculous. Of course he would recognize her. You don’t simply forget the face of the girl who killed your brother.
“Look, I know it’s you. I just want to talk. Honest,” he spoke slowly. His voice wasn’t edgy. He sounded much too calm and collected for her liking. His words were so slow that it was almost as if he were trying to convince himself of what he was saying.
She was a fool if she believed for a second that he wasn’t angry at her. Slowly, she turned around to face him. She was unable to look into his eyes though. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of the contempt she expected to see in his eyes, it was more that she was afraid of what he would see when he looked at her. A murder.
She had told herself a million times that she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. She was nothing like those horrible people she saw on TV or read about in the newspaper. She had done it to protect herself.
They stood silently for a few minutes. Assuming that he was too mad to say anything, she decided she would have to speak first. She struggled and finally the words “I’m sorry” came out of her mouth.
She was probably more shocked to hear those words than he was. She wasn’t sorry - the bastard had deserved it. She was only sorry that had she had ever laid eyes on him, trusted him, made love to him.
“I’m sorry too,“ he answered his voice unnervingly steady. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
Unsure what to day, Jessica stood dumbfounded, certain that any attempts on her part at coherent sentences would be absolutely useless. “What are you doing here Justin?” It felt weird saying his name. She had half forgotten that Ryan even had a brother. It was easier that way, one less person whom she had to worry about being mad at her.
He avoided her question strategically, responding “I just wanted you to know that I don’t hold anything against you.”
Jessica opened her mouth, not believing herself that words would come at all. And they didn’t. Justin continued instead. “Look, he was my brother. Of course I miss him, but I understand why you did what you did. I just…” his voice trailed. “Despite everything, I know how much he loved you.”
No he didn’t. He hadn’t hurt her just once. It had happened so many times. Over and over again he hurt her and she, like Justin, actually believed that despite everything Ryan really did love her.
There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to yell out and tell him that he couldn’t possibly ever understand just what had happened that night or how much that Ryan had hurt her.
At that point Jessica realized that Justin was still talking and forced herself to listen to him, trying desperately to focus on more than the mere sound of his voice.
“Do you have a pen?” he suddenly asked.
Her motions were robotic as she fished around in her purse mechanically. Somehow she actually managed to find the pen and then hand it to him. He took the pen clumsily from her and scribbled something on a crumpled piece of paper that he retrieved from his pocket. He held the paper out to her waiting for her to take it.
She eyed it suspiciously for a few seconds before taking it slowly. Vaguely she heard him say “just in case you ever want to talk about you know, what happened. I’m hurting too.”
And with then he was gone and she was left with the crisp air swirling around her, clutching the paper with his phone number written on it.
He walked away from her quickly, desperately willing himself not to shout out triumphantly. She would call, he knew it. She felt too bad not to. She would call pretending to want to help him familiarize himself with the city but at the back of her mind she would really be thinking that doing this would be a way to atone for what she had done. He could not care less why she called, as long as she did.
After a few conversations they would develop a friendship. A superficial one of course but nevertheless it would be a perfect way for him to make her pay for what she had done to his little brother. And pay she would. Dearly.
Soon he planned to start sending her even more letters, each one equally mysterious. The ball was now in his court. And it was rolling.
Jessica waited impatiently as the phone rang. She could just imagine Nick at the other end, watching her number flash across the caller ID. She could not blame him if he did not want to answer. She had spent the better part of last night and the morning thinking about things. Her thoughts went from Nick to Justin to Nick and then back to Justin.
She was ready to hang up when Nick finally picked up. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself” Jessica said awkwardly. Already she began to wish that she had taken a proactive approach and planned what the hell she was going to say. “How are you?” she asked suddenly, not particularly interested in his answer.
She desperately wanted to somehow acknowledge what had happened between them and explain to him that she had actually enjoyed the kiss. Maybe he would acknowledge it.
“I’m good and you?” he asked. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t acknowledge it.
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened. I…” she began
“There’s nothing to explain. I shouldn’t have done it,” Nick replied tersely.
“Yes, you should have. I mean, I didn’t mind.” Apparently, it was absolutely necessary that she come across like a love-lorn 8th grader who had just been kissed for the first time.
“Glad to hear that,” Nick answered.
Jessica could just imagine him smiling on the other end. She smiled to herself but quickly sobered up. “It’s just, I’ve been through a lot and sometimes it’s so hard to focus on the here and now. I keep going back to the past.”
“I hope you know I’d never hurt you.”
“I know, really I do. It’s just…” she trailed.
“Just what?”
“Go slow Nick, okay?”
“Go slow, Nick repeated. “I think it can I handle that,” he answered.