Not The One

Chapter Four: Roses
by sammo_00

It was about four months after the attack. Dr. Simsy said I was doing remarkably well (she actually let a bit of emotion enter her voice when she said that; I almost fell out of my chair), especially considering I could now maintain eye contact with strange guys for almost thirty seconds. I was also able to bear the presence of guys around me, though if they remained in my personal bubble too long, I tended to freeze and begin hyperventilating, which was always so attractive.

My mother made me return to my classes, even though I tried to get out of it. She said it would help me to heal, having something else to occupy my mind, and I begrudgingly admitted that she was right.

It was about three days before Halloween and it was raining, the rain coming down at an angle that made umbrellas completely useless. As I trudged through the rain towards the student center, my thoughts swirling with what I had just learned in my social psychology class, I kept my head down, trying to keep the rain from blowing in my eyes. Unfortunately, that also meant I didn’t see him before I rebounded off his chest, almost falling on my butt in a puddle of mud. I felt his hand clench around my upper arm, steadying me, but as I looked up into light brown eyes, I forgot to be angry.

“Officer?” I gasped, a drop of rain dripping from my hair to my eye. It was the cop who had helped take my statement back when I was in the hospital. His brown-blonde hair was plastered over his forehead, a bit longer than it was a few months ago, and drops of water were falling off the end of his long straight nose. His brown eyes were filled with concern, though they opened slightly when I gasped.

“I’m sorry; do I know you?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

I looked at him strangely. “Remember? You took my statement a couple of months ago in the hospital.” My face colored slightly as I remembered what had been displayed that day, but I held his gaze.

He held the confused look for a moment, then his expression cleared, he threw his head back, spraying me with drops of water, and he began to laugh. I just looked at him, wondering what on earth was so funny. When he had finally calmed down, I asked him.

He shook his head. “Let’s get inside out of this rain and I’ll tell you.” He slid his hand off my arm, and for a moment, I felt a twinge of regret shoot through me at the loss of contact.

Officer Morehart steered me to the student center through the rain and escorted me to a table with two chairs. After we had taken off our jackets, he went and poured me a coffee from the coffee machine and came back, handing it to me with some packets of sugar.

“Well now, what did you ask me?” he asked. I just wrapped my hands around the hot cup and gave him a withering stare. He chuckled again and I felt something warm slide through my stomach. “Sorry, just a little humor there. It was just one of those ironic things. I had thought of you the other day and realized I hadn’t heard anything since the verdict on your sister was handed down. Not that you normally do, but I still wondered.”

I would have imagined that the very thought of a guy thinking of me would be enough to send me into paroxysms, but instead, I just met his eyes coolly, trying to make myself believe that the reason I was suddenly so hot was because of the steam rising from the coffee.

“Well mister hotshot officer, it would be nice if you told me your name.” The sentence was out of my mouth before I even thought it, and if possible, my face turned even redder. To hide it, I lifted the cup and took a long gulp of coffee.

“Oh damn, I am so sorry. How thoughtless of me,” he muttered, running his hand through his wet hair. “I’m Sam Morehart, and you’re Mary right?”

“Yup,” I nodded, still not looking at him. “Mary Meeden. Nice to meet you.” He grinned and held out his hand. I kind of looked at it for a moment, and he withdrew it. I grinned at him sheepishly, trying not to look too foolish. “Guess I’m not as cured as I thought I was, huh?” I said jokingly, trying to make light of the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.

“That’s alright, I understand completely,” Sam said softly and as I looked at him, I could see the pity etched clearly across his face. Rage suddenly rose swiftly in me and I grabbed my jacket while standing up. Sam looked up at me in confusion.

“I don’t need or want your pity,” I snarled, then grabbed my bookbag and stalked out of the student center into the driving rain.

It was a couple of days later and I was feeling properly ashamed of the way that I had acted towards Sam, and yet, strangely, completely within my rights. I knew that I had responded to his kindness with a harsh attitude that seemed totally out of bounds, but I didn’t really want to admit that to myself. If I allowed myself to accept his pity, I thought it would be a great step backwards in the healing process. By accepting pity I was showing weakness and weakness is what got me in this mess in the first place, right?

Things were so confusing now. I had no idea what was wrong and what was right. Despite what she had done to me, my mother still visited my sister at the hospital every week, sometimes telling little anecdotes in a high pitched voice, almost as though she were talking about someone else instead of her deranged and delusional daughter who had to be locked in restraints every night. Apparently, she had shown an increasing ability to sneak away under supervision and the nurses and guards were concerned that she was going to one day just walk right out of the hospital. Exactly the kind of thing that was conducive to my healing, wouldn’t you think?

A part of me wanted to apologize to Sam for what had happened at the student center, but as it had been a chance occurrence, I had no idea if I was ever going to see him again. How does one apologize to someone if there is no way of getting in contact with them? I figured I was stuck.

As these thoughts swirled in my head, I leaned forward, closer to my fish tank. I had recently bought two new fish, mainly as company for my original goldfish, who I had named Nic. He did have a tank friend named Phren, but he died and I didn’t want Nic to be lonely, so I bought two more fish. They helped me calm down when my brain got a little too high strung and confused. I didn’t think the new guys were getting along with Nic though, and this concerned me. If these little fish couldn’t get along, how on earth was I ever going to be able to face an entire audience of blonde surfer guys who all bore a resemblance to Jack, even if it was only in my mind?

I just stared at the three fish, Nic, Knack, and P2, but I was broken from my reverie by the sound of the doorbell. For a moment, I sat there, waiting for someone else to answer the door, then when the bell rang again, I remembered that my father had left to do some errands and I was home alone. Heaving a huge sigh and mentally preparing myself, I stood up and started down the stairs.

Halfway down I paused. Through the side window, I caught a glimpse of who was standing at my door and I could have sworn I recognized the face. I descended the rest of the stairs slowly and warily, my heart beating a shade faster than usual. I closed my eyes for a moment and uttered a silent prayer before I reached forward and pulled the door open.

“Sam?” I said hoarsely. “No offense, but what are you doing here?”

Sam turned around, a big smile lighting up his face, but nowhere near bright enough to hide the dozen red roses he had clasped in his hands. I just stared at him. He coughed slightly, and I colored, looking anywhere but him.

“Hi Mary,” he said, still smiling. He extended his hand, handing me the bouquet. “These are for you. I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day in the student center. I did something to upset you and that wasn’t my intention and well, these are for you,” he finished, looking at me.

I just stood there. No one had ever bought me flowers. I wasn’t the kind of girl that guys bought flowers for. That was always my older sister. I was the girl who got ignored on Valentine’s Day, who never had a serious relationship, who never got anything worth anything from anyone, or any guy, for that matter. And here was this absolutely gorgeous guy buying me flowers because he thought he did something. I almost had to fight the urge to bend down and pinch my leg, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. But instead I just stood there like some sort of idiot, a glazed look in my eye and, with all probability, drool running down my chin.

“You really need to get these in some water,” Sam said softly, his smile slipping a notch. I finally looked at him and he had a trace of concern in his eyes. “Are you ok?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. For some inexplicable reason, I had a lump in my throat and I didn’t want to make it worse by speaking. Instead, I just reached forward and grabbed the roses, inviting him in with a shake of my head. I turned around and headed towards the kitchen and I heard him shut the door behind me. I kept waiting for those familiar tendrils of panic to overtake me, paralyzing me and numbing all my extremities. All I felt, however, was this warm rush of heat, centered particularly around my stomach area. I busied myself with filling a vase with some marbles and then water, and then settling the roses in the vase in an attractive fashion. When I finally got them to some semblance of beauty, I noticed the lump in my throat was gone and I turned around, looking Sam deep in his beautiful brown eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination but I thought I heard him suck in his breath. He had sat down at the kitchen table, so I carried the vase over and set in down in the middle, then sat down in the chair next to him.

For a moment, I just sat there, and then I turned to him and said, “Thank you.”

His brow furrowed. “For what?” he questioned.

“For the roses, for being kind, for everything,” I said shyly. I heard him sigh softly. “But you don’t have to apologize for something that wasn’t your fault,” I continued. “It wasn’t what you said that made me storm off the other day. It was my fault and I’m the one who should apologize. It was stupid and I wanted to apologize but I had no way of getting in touch with you.” Blinking, I raised my eyes to his. “By the way, how did you know where I lived?”

He laughed. “One of the perks of knowing people in the force. If you’re nice enough, you can find out almost anything,” he chuckled, then his face turned serious. “I’m sorry though, if you think I’ve crossed a line. I just didn’t want things between us to be on bad terms and like you said, I had no way of getting in touch with you either so I kind of had to improvise.”

“So you looked me up in the police database?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he said a little nervously. I laughed, part of me feeling a little violated, but the other part a little relieved that he had found out where I lived.

“Well, thank you for the flowers,” I said, reaching out and placing my hand on his. He grinned.

“Anytime Mary. You know they don’t hold a candle to your beauty, right?” he said softly. I flushed, and gently took my hand back, shaking my head as I stood up.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” I murmured, stepping back from the table. Sam rose immediately, concern in his eyes.

“What? What did I say?” he said, his eyes wide. I just shook my head and smiled faintly. This was getting too weird for me.

“Nothing Sam, you did nothing wrong. It’s just…my dad is coming home soon and I don’t want him to freak out if he finds out I’m here by myself with a guy,” I mumbled, not meeting his eyes. I could tell he didn’t really believe me, because I heard him force a sigh, but he pulled his keys out of his pocket and nodded sagely.

“You’re right, of course. Well, here’s my number in case you want to ever talk or something again in the future. That would totally be up to you. I’ll just let myself out, ok? I’ll talk to you later.” He pressed a small piece of paper into my hand and then headed towards the door. I stayed still until I heard the door shut again, and then sank into the seat, willing the tears not to come.

What on earth was I crying for? I couldn’t figure it out. There was this really attractive guy complimenting me and buying me flowers, which is something that had never happened to me before, and here I was, practically kicking him out of my house. I couldn’t even be decent enough to give him a good reason. Instead, I lied and I couldn’t even make it sound believable. Of course my dad was going to ask about the roses and figure out that someone had been here while he was gone, so what did it matter if he found out about Sam being here? And why did I want to cry so bad?

I needed a hug. But since there was no one to get a hug from, I sighed and, letting the piece of paper drift to the table, stood and went upstairs to my room, wishing that my fish could somehow magically grow arms and give me a hug.


A/N: So I don't want to sound like a pissy author or whatever, but it's really kind of bumming to see that less than one percent of the people who have read this have left a review. Come on guys, it only takes a second. If I don't get any more reviews, I'm just not gonna keep working on this story. There's no point. Thanks for reading though!!!