Her eyes open slowly, those sparkling emeralds drawing me in yet again.
“I love you,” she whispers and it hits me sweet like it always does. She says it more often these days. The first time she said it, I can remember a feeling of panic and now…now if she doesn’t say it, I panic. I need those three words from her to know she is still mine.
I kiss her lips soaking in the words.
“You okay, Care Bear?”
“I wasn’t feeling good. I’m okay though,” She says her hand caressing the side of my face. She moves her fingers along the stubble of my beard. I keep it trimmed small, because she seems to like it, so I refuse to shave.
“Carrie, you’ve been sick for a week. You better get to the doctor.”
“I made an appointment.”
I fight down the fear at the thought of Carrie being sick. Things have been going too smooth. I’ve been able to keep the nightmares hid from her, I’m behaving almost normal and I have her. That’s more than I dreamed, so I know I shouldn’t get too comfortable.
“How about you and I hop on my bike and go get some food, maybe pick up some takeout and drive down to the marina?”
She studies me for a second and gives me a soft smile. Those might be my favorite of the smiles she gives. They are sleepy and full of feeling.
“I’d like that.”
“Good, let’s get out of here.”
*
We drive down to the Tasty Freeze Dairy Bar and order a couple burgers and fries. I get a couple of canned sodas and put it all in the bags on the back of my bike. I like having Carrie on my bike. We fit and move like one, as if we’ve been riding together for years. It feels…right.
We drive down to the marina and find an empty picnic table looking out over the boats and water.
“It really is beautiful here,” Carrie says placing our food out on the table. I put the sodas down and grab a seat across from her.
“I like to come here and think. It helps to clear my mind. It makes me feel closer to Jazz. You two used to love to play here and feed the ducks and fish.”
I see a look in Carrie’s eyes and I know she’s remembering the night I tried to end it all, but she doesn’t push me about it. She’s my safe zone, at least that’s how she makes me feel.
“I remember, but I have a confession.”
“What’s that? I say and take a bite of my burger.
I watch as she twirls a French fry in the ketchup seeming to think about her words. Then she looks up at me with this impish smile on her face.
“We hated fishing. We only wanted to spend the day with you,” she laughs popping the fry in her mouth.
I stop mid-bite, watching her and can tell that she is completely serious.
“You used to harass me for hours to take you fishing.”
She swallows down her food and grins.
“You’d follow me around and whine until I crumbled.”
“You really were so easy, Jacob. Putty in our little five and six year old hands,” She says with a grin, taking another bite.
“I can’t believe you. I even bought you those matching Barbie fishing rods!”
She pauses, staring off into space like she’s thinking about something, “Actually I think it was a Sleeping Beauty fishing rod.”
“Same thing,” I dismiss.
“Totally not, though to be honest I would have rather had the Spiderman.”
“Get out of town.”
“Nope, I am not a girly girl.”
“Princess, this is the first time I can remember you not having a dress on in forever, you most certainly are a girly-girl—whatever the hell that is.”
“Well maybe about some things, but not most.”
“Name one,” I dare here watching her eat. How can a woman eating be sexy? Seems impossible, but somehow Carrie pulls it off.
“Well, I went through a scene from a bad James Bond film and didn’t fall completely apart,” she says, continuing to eat.
“Bad James Bond film?”
She puts her burger down and licks the ketchup off her lips and starts counting holding up a finger for each new item.
“I was held at gun point. I withstood flying bullets, people dying, a house explosion, fire, having someone I care about get hurt…see? Not girly-girl or I’d be in a corner crying somewhere. Well either that, or a padded cell.”
I nod in agreement, thinking over her words. I feel a twinge of jealousy when she mentions caring about Bull, hell maybe she means Crusher. I hate that it bothers me, but it does.
I look down pretending to eat, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh no. What’s that look for Jacob Blake?”
“Nothing,” I answer, not about to admit it. I concentrate instead on my food.
“You don’t get to do that now.”
I look up and she’s focused on me and the look on her face says she’s not going to let this pass.
“Just thinking maybe you would have been happier if you ended up with Crush or Bull,” I try and shrug it off, dropping my food on the table. My appetite is gone. I sack up my garbage, refusing to look her in the face. A greasy, wadded up paper hits me in the face. I look over at her.