The Path to James (2 page)

And I'm out the door.

It's a crisp spring morning in Kiowa, Oregon. My mood is lifting as I sprint to my car. I'm biting my toast, holding my thermos and grabbing for my car keys with my free hand.
I think today will be a good day.
For some reason that thought makes me uneasy. 'Calm before the storm,' comes to mind.

I am about to hop into my little car when I notice a note on my windshield.

Oh, no! He's been here!
It’s in Jaren’s handwriting.

I snatch the note from under the wiper and hurry into my vehicle, locking the door behind me.

You are the love of my life. But if there is no hope, I will respect your wishes. I won't bother you again.

Reading those words, the note flutters out of my hands, my stomach eases out of a stubborn knot. “Oh, thank you!” I breathe up at the roof of my car. It is such a relief to have this over, and without going through the hassle of a restraining order.

I start my car and back out of the parking spot. Maybe now I can finally return home.

***

Work was fine, really. I'm so used to working eighty-hour weeks that my body just goes on autopilot without me realizing it. Being a medical transcriptionist pays decent, and it keeps me sharp. I am able to keep up with my typing and utilize words like “herxheimer” and “encephalopathy.” It's fun even though I'm trapped at a desk for the entire shift.

Waitressing has its benefits, too. I can switch my brain off and I get to be on my feet, active. It's a great way to socialize when I have no free time, and I have come to love my regulars.

There are no uniforms, the sweet older couple who own the establishment just ask that we “dress nice.” So, I throw the apron over my previous work clothes and I'm good to go. I pull the door to the main entrance open and the smell of fried food comes wafting over me in an air conditioned wave.

“Hey, Alex!” Crystal yells from behind the till. The restaurant is slow, but it will pick up in about half an hour.

“Hey,” I'm still securing the apron to my waist. “How's your shift?”

Crystal frowns. She never frowns. She is one of those infectiously, bubbly people—the ones that are always grinning with their too-perfect teeth.
Uh, oh.
She wants something, it’s never good when Crystal wants something.

“What is it?” I scowl.

“I've been working the morning shift for weeks, and then Paul requested vacation and they have me on graveyard tomorrow,” she pouts. I've never found that sort of thing attractive.

Every weekday I have the opportunity to see Crystal at the start of every shift, then Paul at the end. He has really been looking forward to this vacation.

Crystal's brows knit. As she looks at me with her pleading eyes, I'm thinking “
Out with it!
”

“Alex, I'll be so tired.” She comes from around the registers to hug me. Affection will get her nowhere, “Have I told you how awesome you are lately?” But flattery might.

I sigh wearily. I haven't been sleeping well lately, anyway. If it’ll help me escape my nightmares I might as well do it. “Fine.”

“Oh! Thank you thank you thank you!” I don't return her embrace, but that doesn't stop her from squeezing me tighter.

Since when did I become such a pushover?

“Fill out the shift change and I'll sign the book.” That was her cue to leave, and she jumps straight for the office to get the trade written out before I can change my mind.

“You are the best!” Crystal squeaks before she disappears.

Chapter 3

When I get back to Kara's apartment, she and her boyfriend are already in bed. I'm feeling worn out myself, having stayed up so late talking with her the night before.

I check my phone as I close and lock the front door behind me. Despite his note saying that he would leave me alone, there is one missed call from Jaren, and a few text messages.

I need to see you

I delete and open the next message.

I just want closure, please

Deleted.

You're such a bitch! You can't do one thing for me!

Psycho
. I don't know where he was hiding all this crazy for the first year, I did
not
see this coming. I toss my phone onto the couch and head into the guest bathroom for a shower. There is absolutely nothing in this world that could possess me to want to see that man again.

I start the shower for the water to warm. I release my ponytail and begin to strip in front of the mirror. I frown as I look at my own reflection, my cheeks are a little bit sunken in and I am missing what little fat was left on my hips.

I've lost more weight, I see
. All this stress is beginning to eat at me. No wonder Kara has been trying to force feed me lately.

I slip out of my lace panties and remove my bra. So. Tired. I pull back the shower curtain and step under the stream of the shower-head…it's marvelous. The steam fills the air, heat works to release my worn muscles.

It's been such a long day. Such a long month, really. I haven't had any satisfaction in ages, and a rush of endorphins could do wonders for me, I determine. It couldn't hurt.

I back against the shower wall. The tile is cold against my heated skin, it's a glorious contrast in comparison to the hot water. I left Maurice, my vibrator, at home. We've both been neglected lately. With Jaren hounding me, I haven't been able to retrieve him.

“Oh!”
my hand has found myself. My fingers slip in and my eyes flutter closed.

My mind ventures to the usual...my dream man, my fantasy who whisks me away from my depressing little bungalow. The very opposite of my ex, he will free me from my work and my problems. He'll save me from Jaren. We'll travel the world. Me, writing about our journeys after making love to him in every semi-private venue we can find.

I sigh as my sex grows wet around my fingers. What I wouldn't do to have that man in the shower with me now. I groan at the thought of him capturing me against the shower wall, the water slithering down his back, over his perfect ass. His thick hair wet and water filtering through the stubble on his chiseled jaw. He presses me against the shower and...and...and...

I'm breathing hard.
I'm close.

His hands would slip over my breasts, past my aroused nipples, slide down my sides to grab a firm hold of my hips. He would position himself just right, pull me onto him and his rock-hard cock would push inside me.

“Ah!”
I moan as I come at the fantasy of him, of this dream man that is out there somewhere. My imagination bringing him so vividly to mind that I can feel the warmth of his skin and the sensation of his touch. I relax limp against the tile, my head turned to place my flushed cheek against the cold wall.

I know my dream is out there. I just have to find him. Somewhere. Somehow.

Chapter 4

The next morning I'm no longer a frayed mess of nerves. I think that shower really helped me. I'm ready and out the door early. During lunch I check my messages and am not surprised to find another tirade from Jaren.

Alex?

ALEX!

ALEXANDRIA!!!!

If you don't talk to me, so fucking help me,

you will be sorry!

I sigh. There goes my good mood. I'm about to put my phone away when I think of my shower and my fantasy. I think of my dream man, of how being alone with my imagination is far more fulfilling than being with Jaren. I text my ex back on a whim.

I have discovered someone new.

Sent.

Please have the decency to leave me alone.

And Sent.

Jaren doesn’t respond.

I get through the remainder of my transcriptionist shift and have a large break before I have to be at the diner, since I traded shifts with Crystal. Normally I head straight over from one job to the other. With this swap I now have an unfamiliar surplus of time. Despite the inconvenience, it will be something new.

To fill the gap in my schedule, I stop by my home for some extra clothes. I don't bother parking my car in the garage, this should only take a moment. I peek my head in to make certain Jaren isn't there. I gaze at my comfy couch, my drooping houseplants, my pile of junk mail, the pictures on my mantel. He should be at work, but you can never be too careful. There is still no response from when I texted him earlier.

I move quickly, grabbing some jeans and workout shorts. Maybe I'll go hiking later. A few tank tops and more professional outfits for work. I think to grab Maurice, my forlorn vibrator, but I blush at the thought of masturbating in Kara's apartment. Again. I have to stop myself from reaching into my nightstand to grab him. Last night in the shower was a one-time lapse in judgment.

I grab my little laptop and head for the door. I spot the window that I believe Jaren keeps sneaking in through and pause. The latch has never worked properly. I think for a moment before heading over to one of the drawers in my kitchen. I stare inside until I figure out what I'm looking for.

There.

A thick wooden spoon sticks out from the array of knives, ladles and whisks. I dig it up from the rest of the clutter and walk over to the window, wedging it behind the track on the pane. I tug and the window doesn't budge.
Huh
, I grin at my own handiwork, that should stop my ex.

Yeah, because nothing can get through the impenetrable glass.

I frown. I don't think he is capable of going as far as destruction of property.

I glance over at the fist-sized hole in my wall. Well, not as far as breaking windows.

On my way out, something in the doorway stops me and I turn back around. I feel like I've forgotten something. I gaze at my comfy couch, my pile of junk mail, the pictures on my mantel.

I shrug, I'll figure it out later, no doubt.

I drop my junk off at Kara's and head over to the diner. It's a Friday, this is going to be miserable. My shift is eight p.m. to four a.m.
I can do this
. I take a deep breath. At least the diner will provide free coffee. I push in the doors and it's busy. The whole restaurant is abuzz with customers and staff running to and fro.

Crystal beams when she sees me, she is just about finished with my shift. She mouths “thank you” from across the crowded room and I smile in response. This won't be so bad. I relieve Jonathon of his tables and I go on autopilot from there.

The place stays busy on a Friday night until the die-off at eleven. And it's not until the restaurant slows down that I realize what I'd forgotten. I'm busing a table when my mind screams,
MY HOUSEPLANTS!

I sigh up at the ceiling in exasperation. I feel like such an idiot.

I haven't watered them in nearly a week. I groan. My anxiety levels are through the roof. Jaren should be sleeping by the time I get there, but what if he crashed at my place? I take a peek at my phone from the front pocket of my apron. Still no response from my last text.

Message received, perhaps? Maybe his silence is a good sign?

I can drop by my home after work, on my way to Kara's. I can run in, water the plants, and run back out. Then I can die on her couch, and sleep through to Sunday.

I'm about to ask if I can leave early when another table comes in—a couple of joggers. They are handsome and, obviously, in shape. I perk up when I see them. Once they've gotten settled, I take their orders, then leave to clean up around the registers.

When I come back to check on them, one of the joggers flirts shamelessly with me over his biscuits and gravy. After our interaction his eyes follow me throughout the diner as I refill napkins and shakers for the morning rush. I'm fully interested and, quite frankly, flattered until I notice the wedding band on his left hand. Before the man leaves with his friend, he discards a more than generous tip, and slips me a number.

Pig. I feel like giving up on men all together.

I clear off their table and begin preparations for the end of my shift. After everything that has happened in regards to the opposite sex, I might as well start an exclusive relationship with my vibrator...and maybe I've just changed my mind about grabbing Maurice when I go to water my houseplants after all.

***

Fresh air is divine after being stuck in a hot diner all evening. The moon is full tonight, it's preparing to retire for the day, but I can still see its lovely glow. I endeavor to leave the scent of fried food and grease behind me, but it clings to my hair, and my skin, and my uniform. I check my phone and there are still no missed calls or text messages.