The movie house was not nearly as crowded as Alice had hoped it would be. She glanced
around at the few clusters of people littering the lobby. Some stood near the snack and popcorn
counter; others hovered across from the ushers, waiting for the okay to head to their theater.
She shifted, the faded red and orange and yellow carpet crunching lightly beneath her
shoes. It’d been irreparably sullied by years of butter and kernels and soda. She shoved her hands
into the pockets of her jacket and dug one toe further into the mess. Their movie began in half an
hour. Too much time, too early, as all last minute decisions were.
Over her right shoulder she felt someone approach, and lifted her eyes up and around.
Her date stood a half-step away, grinning, arms full of popcorn and drinks.
“Two sodas, two straws, one popcorn,” he said. His face was alight with pride.
Alice offered him a small smile. “Thanks.”
It was their third date, but Alice was already feeling smitten with the guy. He was kind,
warm, and had the best laugh.
He handed her one of the drinks and a straw. “Should we go get seats?”
Alice nodded. “Sure. Near the front.”
He put one arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “We could sit in the back.” His
tone was suggestive. Alice laughed and turned her head, looking down.
Her eyes found a pair of black shoes across the lobby, as familiar as the skin on the backs
of her hands.
All Jesse wanted was to sit in the dark coolness of a theater, surrounded by people he did
not know, and forget for two hours.
He’d planned it out perfectly. Heard from a friend of a friend she would be out and about,
most likely not at the theater, and therefore it was safe. How stupid of him. It wasn’t safe
anywhere in this town.
As he paid for his popcorn and overpriced water, he felt his shoulders relax. Knots and
ropes had formed between his shoulder blades over the last two months. Fear of opening up an
unhealed wound had kept him at home.
It would be nice to check out of reality for a while, he thought.
Until he heard the voice that formed a pit in his stomach. He swallowed, took his change
with a nod, and cradled his purchases, that quiet “Thanks” echoing between his ears.
When he turned around, Jesse’s heart sank to his stomach. It wasn’t that she was five feet
away from him for the first time in months. Or the mix of horror and longing in his chest as she
stared at his feet. It was the arm that was not his, where it shouldn’t be—around her waist,
touching her. Holding her.
Heat rose to his cheeks; his body warmed. For a moment he forgot how to breathe, the air
catching in his throat while her eyes raked up the length of his body and stopped on his. It was a
hair’s breadth of time he allowed her to hold his gaze, but it was long enough.
He felt the intensity boring into his neck as he turned on his heel and strode towards the
lobby doors. His purchases he dumped in the trash bin beside the exit, throwing them to their
death with a satisfying thump. Through the doors and out into the sunshine. It was August. It was
hot. He wondered why she was wearing a sweater.
Pinpricks skimmed over the surface of Alice’s arms, up her shoulders, down her back
The arm around her waist suddenly felt cold. She twisted away from it, repulsed, reaching for the
phone in her back pocket as an excuse.
She had barely glanced at the screen—and not at her date at all–when she said, “Oh,
crap, it’s Mom. I just missed her call. Do you mind if I just…” Alice gestured towards the doors
with her phone sheepishly.
Her date took a moment to process. “Wha—oh, sure! I’ll, uh, grab us seats. It’s theater 7.
Hope everything is okay.” He cupped the back of her head with his hand, kissed her forehead,
and headed to the ushers.
“Thanks,” she muttered, already on the move.
The lobby doors weren’t quite closed yet when she pushed them open again.
At first she didn’t see him. Her phone was in her hand still. She made to glance over her
shoulder—just in case her date was watching—and saw him against the cement wall.
The sight of him sucked the breath from her lungs. She stood there, enraptured, feet
rooted to the ground. He looked exactly the same as when she’d left him. Unkempt dark hair,
faded white band t-shirt, his jaw dimpled with anger.
“Jesse.”
“Jesse!” Alice’s voice was brimming with shock.. Frustration. A dozen other unnamable
emotions. Both her arms wrapped around his left bicep and pulled, a counterweight to his
drunken, wild eruption. Fury radiated from his body, directed at a man who had slammed himself
back against the bar.
But the sound of his name, of her voice, had an immediate effect. Jesse fell back into her
pressure. Alice remained steady against his weight.
“He touched you,” he breathed.
“I’m okay.” She loosened one arm and wrapped it around him. “Dont, Jesse. Let’s go.”
He allowed her to push him forward. She turned quickly to glare at the man against the
bar, the one who had had the audacity to put his hands on her. Despite what he deserved, she was
relieved Jesse would leave him alone.
It wasn’t a week later she learned Jesse went back that night for him and broke his nose.
“Jesse.”
The feel of his name on her lips released Alice from whatever held her to the sidewalk,
and she found herself rushing to Jesse’s side.
He knew she was there. He always knew, because he could feel it down in his bones each
time she looked at him. He kept his eyes closed, trying desperately to count to ten the way she
had once begged him to. His hands fisted at his sides.
And suddenly she was flying into him, her body pressing into his middle. On instinct
Jesse caught her.
There were flowers waiting for Alice outside her apartment door. Attached to them was a
man, watching her from the corners of his eyes. She reached for him, for the flowers clenched in
his fist, and when she wrapped her fingers around the stems, his free arm pulled her to him. She
nuzzled her face into the center of his chest; it fit there as if it had been made only for her. She
couldn’t imagine a better place to be.
“You’re home,” she said softly.
“I’m home.” His voice was all warmth and honey.
“You weren’t supposed to be back yet.” Alice breathed in the scent of him.
Jesse’s quiet laugh rumbled against her cheek. “I decided to leave early. The others can
handle it without me.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back, his eyes taking in her
face. She knew she was a mess—sweaty and dirty and clothes rumpled–but beneath his gaze she
never felt more beautiful.
Alice pressed her face into Jesse’s chest, her fists balled up near her chin. Her body
melted as his arms wound around her. For the first time in months, the ropes around her lungs
loosened and she could breathe.
That was how he’d made her feel from the beginning. The presence of him filled her
lungs with air and pulled her to the surface. No matter how deep she fell, Jesse was her lifeline.
She never wanted to leave his arms again.
“Alice,” said Jesse, worry knotting in his chest. “Jane called and said you were having a
rough day. Are you okay?”
Jesse had just been off the phone with Alice’s mother, Jane, who’d called in a small
panic. Her last phone call with Alice didn’t “seem right.” He was already in his truck driving to
the apartment.
Alice was silent on the other end of the phone. Jesse felt sweat beading along the back of
his neck as he stopped at another god forsaken redlight.
“Alice, talk to me, honey.”
“I don’t know.” She sounded small. He could picture her curled up on the couch or on the
kitchen floor, falling in on herself. The light turned green and he sped through the intersection.
Just a few more blocks.
“I’m almost there.” He kept his voice as steady as possible. He was grateful Jane had
called. It terrified him when Alice slipped like this, when the depression reared its ugly head
again. She probably didn’t take her meds; why did she always refuse to take her meds?
He pressed his foot against the brakes and turned left, into the apartment complex. As he
leapt out of the truck at a near-run, he wasn’t sure if his heart ached from worry, or from
disappointed frustration.
His hand found its way to the back of her neck, fingers lacing into her hair. It was tangled
like it always was when she took it down. He had always loved the way it looked when it was in
a bun with those wispy pieces framing her face. It must have been recent that she’d started letting
the curls free.
He never thought he’d get to hold her again.
“Alice.” Her name came out as a whisper. “Oh God, Alice.”
She pulled away then, and when Jesse looked down at her face, he saw wetness behind
her eyes. “Hi.”
Jesse opened his mouth to speak, but the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.
“I can’t do this anymore!” Alice had flung herself onto the couch and put her face into
her hands. Her fingers pressed against her eyes as if to stop the tears from coming.
Jesse had had to be picked up at the bar again. He wasn’t drunk when she arrived, just
fuming. She almost wished he was drunk. It was better than this alternative.
“Alice,” he said, kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa. His hands went to her knees.
“Alice, please.” He only ever called her by her name, never ‘Al’ or ‘Leece’ like her friends. Just
Alice.
Her hands shook. “Why do you keep doing this? I told you, I asked you.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he said quietly. “I didn’t drink, Alice. I swear it.”
“Then why did Marcus take your keys?” she snapped. She slowly pulled her fingers from
her face.
“Ask Marcus.” A touch of anger was rising from his chest. Why wouldn’t she believe
him? “I haven’t had anything to drink in weeks. I promised, Alice. I don’t break my promises.”
Not anymore, at least.
“Why should I believe you?”
Jesse didn’t know then, and didn’t know now. And despite how desperately he wanted
her to see it, he was sure she never would.
“Jesse,” she said again, sending a thrill through his veins.
“What are you doing?” he said finally. He still hadn’t let go of her. Yet.
In truth, Alice didn’t know. She hadn’t had a coherent thought since she’d turned to see
him standing there, pained and cradling his movie snacks. The only thing driving her forward
was pure instinct. Yet now that they had been satiated by his nearness, she was left unsure.
Here he was, the man who’d filled her dreams since the moment they’d met, been the
subject of her nightmares since they’d broken up. Running, always just out of reach, calling her
name down an empty hallway. Alice, Alice…
Jesse was touching her again. Staring down at her again. She was afraid to admit how
easy it would be to slip back into the folds of their relationship. He’d be there in her bed again,
making coffee for them each morning, and she’d watch him over the kitchen island as she
prepared dinner. Maybe this time it wouldn’t be so hard. Maybe this time her trust wouldn’t be
unwarranted.
Oh, god.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Alice missed him. There was no doubting that. Hollow spaces filled her apartment where
he used to be—the closet, the kitchen, the coffee table. It wasn’t his leftover things that reminded
her of him, but the absence of them.
When her friends called she swore she was fine. She was glad to have him out of her life,
she swore it.
She reached across the counter to the small burnt-orange bottles resting against the wall,
grabbed the first one, and shook out a small white and orange pill. She popped it in her mouth
and swallowed it bitterly. He’d always been on her about taking care of herself. Wouldn’t he be
so proud now.
“I promised.” The words hurt even weeks later. They were a lie, of course they were a lie.
But…perhaps they weren’t.
Had she been wrong?
God, it was easy. Being near her, holding her, pretending nothing had changed. And
maybe it hadn’t. Maybe this time…
He had ached for months missing her. Sad the relationship was over. Worried she wasn’t
taking care of herself. Angry at her for not believing him, angry at himself for being
unbelievable. Because when they were good, they were great. Because the pickups from the bar,
checking her medicine, the arguments over both…how much did they truly matter?
They loved each other. That was what mattered.
Right?
But he knew better.
He stared into her face. Tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes and he knew the
moment they did he would crumble.
And then Jesse did the most painful thing he had ever done. He wrenched his hands away
from her, his palms cold where she once was. They fell limply to his sides. He forced himself to
look at the small “o” shape her mouth made, listen to the bewildered gasp coming from her lips.
He hated himself for what he was about to say.
“We can’t.”
