Ch. 2 - Let's Try again
A/N -
The below story is fictional and fun. In collaboration with the previous author and at his request, the below and in time, the continuing chapters are all significant rewrites. This is collaboration with the original author. He is aware of the changes and has with them and its publication.
All characters in this story are above the age of legal consent. This is more of a romantic love story. That being said, please know this story contains love and sexual relations and interactions between a man and a woman as well as two women who learn and grow into their bisexuality. We truly hope you enjoy it.
***
"Really!" She stood, "Really!"
She looked at me now with tears in her eyes, "How dare you? How ..." she paused, "Just delete my number."
She gathered up her tissues, went to the kitchen trash, threw them away, came back to the living room, looked at me and repeated, "Just delete my number Ken."
She turned and walked out of my apartment.
And this is why I do not date.
**** End of Chapter 1 ****
The adjectives describing the last few weeks would be, restless, frustrating, upsetting, confusing and pissed off. I blew the once chance I had with the woman I wanted to get closer to because of a panic attack, this stupid PTSD. The fact that most clinical psychologists and mental health professionals I have seen have told me I am self-centered and not outward focused.
Simply put, according to them, I suck at life outside of the Army.
***
It had been three weeks since Mary walked out of my apartment. Labor Day had come and gone and the first signs of fall were really prevalent. Some of the leaves on the trees were turning reddish and yellow. The evening and morning temps were dipping down lower. Cooler mornings meant track pants for my morning jog. I had recently gotten a newer version of my running blade from the VA as well as a sturdier cushion and gel pad making the prosthetic more comfortable running.
On Thursday morning I came back from my run. As is my routine I cleaned up, threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, this time I grabbed a branded Veteran Service Organization lightweight jacket and headed out. I walked in the coffee shop, before stepping in line, I did a quick look of the seating areas, not seeing Mary, and I got in line.
Yes, you assumed correctly. I didn't want to see her. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and admitted to myself she would do so much better. I didn't want to mess with my heart or mind.
Eventually I ordered and then found that same four-top table and had a seat. I got comfortable, sipping my coffee and reading about the prevention of cyber-attacks and tactics for prevention of cyber security attacks through email, attachments, and urls.
I heard a chair slide across the floor and out from the table. I looked up. My eyes wide, I froze in place. "Mary!"
She nodded. "Please have a seat I was just leaving."
Her smile disappeared, her face grew stern, "No you weren't. Don't lie to me Ken, don't ever lie to me."
I lowered my head. "I will leave; I don't want to upset you."
Her facial expression didn't change. She placed her purse and backpack on the chair and took a seat. She placed her hands flat on the table. Her head was tilted down looking at them. Her hair fell from around shoulders and back covering her face making it impossible for me to see her. I heard her clearly.
"Sleepless Ken, three weeks of sleepless nights because of you."
She whispered. Her hands moved forward, turning her palms up, her fingers spread, motioning for mine.
"You don't know the tears I have cried in three weeks! You hurt me and I do not know why but my heart still hurts and yearns for you."
She paused. I slowly placed my hands in hers.
"I can't stop wanting to be with you."
Mary softly closed her fingers around mine. She inhaled a deep breath. She lifted her head; tears welled up in her eyes. I pulled my right hand away from hers, my thumb carefully brushing her skin, wiping the tear from her cheek. Then wiped away the tears which rolled down her left cheek.
She broke the silence, in a soft whisper, "You are a
bastard!"
With my right hand I gently lifted her hair from her face, the right side then the left, all the while my left hand held hers. I curled her jet black hair behind her ear and over her shoulder. I carefully did the same to the left side of her hair.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and gently squeezed her hand. "I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You deserve so much more ..."
"Don't!" She cut me off. Her voice was loud enough that a few tables near us to pause and look our way.
"Listen Sergeant, I can deal with the PTSD," she whispered, "I can deal with your leg. But," her voice returned to normal, "I will not deal with your bullshit, low self-esteem crap. I want you ... all of you. I will not deal, with the crap of you thinking or saying negative things about yourself."
She squeezed my hands, "I want the man who brought me coffee and wasn't ogling my chest and body, I want the man who told me how beautiful my eyes are. Not the man three weeks ago in the apartment who didn't think he was good enough for me."
She let go of my hand, placing hers flat on the table. I closed my book and started to get my stuff when she raised her head and looked at me.
"Stay please, for a moment, please!"
I put my book in my backpack and waited. I took a sip of my now cold coffee. Another tear rolled down her right cheek. As before, I carefully reached up and brushed the tear away.
"You broke the mold Ken. Do you realize that?" She paused. "You bastard." She whispered.
"I will text you for our date tomorrow night. That other Ken, the Ken I first met
better
show up."
With that she stood. I hurried and stood also, "Stop that!" she said as she picked up her book bag and purse, turned and walked away.
I watched her walk out of the coffee shop. As she waited to cross the street, my phone buzzed, I looked at the text message. '
You better be staring at my eyes and hair ... and not my ass. 😉 "
I smiled.
***