As Though You Were Mine - Extra Scene #1

I was staring at bottles of vitamins when I first met Zach. He came up to me in his grey jacket, the ones the pharmacy technicians and interns wore vs the white ones of the full-fledged pharmacists. 

“They’re pretty much all the same,” he said in response to the confused expression I must have had on my face. “I’d go for basic store brand.”

I looked up in surprise, not expecting the sudden attention and not entirely sure I wanted it, either. He stood with his hands in his jeans pockets, holding his jacket back casually and comfortably. He wasn’t especially attractive. He had a mess of red hair with the typical high volume of freckles to accompany it, a crooked nose, and his ears didn’t match. And really, it’s the ear thing that kind of keeps you from thinking he’s really good looking. It’s not super obvious, but just enough to make you look at him for a moment too long and wonder what is up. I did that when I looked at him in response.

“It’s the ears,” he said matter-of-factly, then followed up with the smile. It was the smile that did it. It was welcoming and friendly, but more importantly, it reached his eyes, which were the kindest eyes I felt I had ever seen. This kindness paired with his direct response at my rude stare made me fidgety with the bottles in my hand.

“What do you mean?”

“One’s bigger than the other. Don’t worry, it throws everyone off.”

“So much so that you’re stuck just addressing it directly right away, huh?”

He just shrugged. I really had no idea how to gracefully pull myself out of that part of the conversation, so I just muddled into the vitamin subject, instead. “What about these ones that claim to be all natural?”

He laughed. “Really? The only natural way is through healthy eating. If it’s in a pill, it ain’t natural.”

He had a point. “Nothing that is going into my body is natural, so cheap it is.”

“An excellent decision. A great way to balance out all of those Twinkies.”

I eyed him with suspicion. Did he actually know this about me or was he simply making a generic joke?

After a few more visits and chats, he asked me out. He took me to one of those coffee shops that lets local musicians play for free. Our conversation was quiet. He seemed to be shy, and I was my usual non-social self. I think we were both relieved when the music started, and more relieved still when the musicians were so bad that when our eyes met again we had our first shared moment. We paid and left quickly, holding in our laughter until we stepped outside into the chilled January evening, where we released it in ridiculous kid-like giggles.

From there we walked, talked, and held hands. Then he gave me the most wonderful of all kisses after he walked me to my car to say goodnight.

A few dates later, when I realized that our relationship might be going somewhere, I asked him the “why me” question.

“It was your hair,” Zach confessed. “It’s shiny, curly, and sometimes it’s just all over the place. I love the beautiful chaos.” He smiled mischievously. “It’s like jazz.”

I laughed because I couldn’t deny that I loved this comparison. Men have always liked my hair. They like that they can bury their hands in it, weave their fingers through the tangles, and feel the curls wrap around them. I have virtually nothing else on my body worth wrapping hands around, and I liked it that way. Having a man’s hands distracted in my hair meant less grabby ones elsewhere. My boobs are just too small, causing men to try too hard which meant they squeezed too tightly. Honestly, all of those supposed areas where I’m supposed to get the most pleasure were just too damn sensitive. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t enjoy sex, but sometimes it was up to me to get the most out of it.

In spite of Zach’s kind ways, he was also a drummer. I was nervous that I’d become his new percussion set. Like jazz? Really? How cliché for a musician. Except he wasn’t just a musician, and I knew he liked the logical order and cause-effect situations of drugs and their chemical processes. So to listen to his voice warm when he said he loved the “beautiful chaos” of my hair was  enough for me to drop my guard just long enough to discover how unfounded my fears were. Was his ability to make my body respond and harmonize with his a result of the musical sensitivities or the attentive memory from an anatomy and physiology class?

When I really started to pay attention to him at the pharmacy, I realized it was neither of these things. Instead it was his innate ability to listen and reassure his customers as they asked about whether or not it was okay to take Advil with their new medicine. It was his patience as he took the time to explain the intricacies of their prescription drug coverage.

“When people are coming to get a prescription, they’re usually feeling miserable. Or scared because either they or someone close to them has been in the hospital,” he told me once. “They just need someone to listen to them and make them realize they’re not alone, that’s all.”

He had a way of pulling others into his way of thinking. He was rational, calm, and kind, which led you to see his arguments as reasons instead. The way Zach showed up this morning and just slid back into my life was just the same way he had done so when we first started dating. We belonged together, naturally. On the other hand, his listening skills felt sincere. 

We came home from the never-ending funeral home visit, and I made too many impossible phone calls, including the one that would determine when I would make the drive up north to pick up the kids, who were staying with a neighbor who was also their daycare provider. Zach stayed with me throughout the whole thing. Part of me knew I should send him away; it wasn’t fair to use an ex-boyfriend like this, especially one who hadn’t even wanted to become the ex, but I selfishly accepted the hand around mine, the reassuring arm around my shoulders, and finally, the bed we shared that night.

Waking up the next morning, we were entangled in just the same way we always used to be after a night of making love, which is how I knew that I had just thrown our break-up out the window. I stared at Zach’s smooth chest beneath my cheek, enjoying the steady breaths that rose and fell, and thought of Brian.

I was four when he was born, and based upon how much attention he got, which is to say the same rare and occasional bursts of affection that Layla and I ever received, he was just as unplanned as we had been. It’s difficult to say whether or not my mother ever really wanted kids. I feel like she loves us, I guess, just not as much as I ever would have liked. Turns out a devoted love is not automatic, once you have a baby. Did she hope it would change with each new child?

Brian was cared for, and Layla and I certainly did our part, too. For quite some time, though, while Layla and I shared that sisterly bond, Brian played that proverbial third wheel. He was good for getting things for us and taking the blame when something got broken. He had a bit of an angelic face so Mom would forgive him a lot faster than if she knew it had been one of us. When Layla left, or maybe more importantly, when Layla stopped looking past her own life and interests to see me anymore, things changed between Brian and me. With our mom not really involved, I took it upon myself to do what I could for him. Mostly this meant shielding him from the narcissism of our parents.

I felt Zach’s hand move into my hair, and I ran my hand up his arm to let him know I was awake.

“Been awake long?” he asked.

“No, I guess not.”

“How are you doing?”

I shrugged. “Thinking about when Brian and I were kids. And my mom.”

“Tell me.”

“I used to go with my mom and Brian to his teacher conferences. I remember the first time I did this, Brian was ten. I think I just wanted to know if school really was going okay. He always said it was, but you couldn’t alway tell with him, you know?”

Zach chuckled. “I guess it’s a family trait then, huh?”

“Mm,” I replied. “What caught me at that first conference, though, was Mom’s reaction to the teacher’s comments about Brian and the great work he was doing. She came across as the proudest parent there was. ‘This is wonderful, Brian.’ ‘I didn’t know you could write so well.’ Things like that.”

“Let me guess, Brian wasn’t amazing?”

“No, it’s not that. He was a good student. Pretty smart and all, but it kind of hit me at that moment. Mom used to say the same things about me at my conferences when I was younger. I had felt so special, but never realized that she said the exact same stuff every year, and now she was pulling it all out for Brian. We weren’t special. It was just an act she put on for the teachers.”

Zach shifted our position so that we were both on our side, facing each other. “I’m sure you were special, even if it was an act. Look what you did for Brian back then. Look what you’re doing for him now. Even if you weren’t special then, you are now.”

I kissed him for that little speech. Kissed him harder because he believed what he was saying. Then I pulled back as he tried to take things further. He didn’t push, probably thinking that I was still lost within the memories. Instead, I was thinking how he didn’t know the full story behind what I was doing for Brian and Elaine. I really wasn’t sure how he would take it.

“I have to go to work,” I told him.

Have you read the bridge story that links As Though You Were Mine with All I'm Asking? It's available only to my newsletter subscribers. Sign up now for access!