Elizabeth Finn: Unforgiven

By the time Darren stepped back out from the shower, he’d still not stopped thinking about Bailey, analyzing her, obsessing about her. He’d simply spent entirely too much time with her this week. He ended up flopping down on his bed and falling asleep. He wasn’t that tired, a bit hung over perhaps, but the nap was more to stop his brain from thinking about a woman a bit too young for him, a bit too close to him, and just plain too fucking much for him. The fact was, he cared just a bit too much for her to subject her to his brand of relationship. He couldn’t hurt her.

He avoided her for the rest of the day by staying in his room, working on his laptop, and getting ahead on some reading for his ethics class. But come late evening, it was time. He dressed in jeans and a simple gray T-shirt, and he headed to the kitchen. Trinity came in a few minutes later, smelling of perfume, plastered perfectly with makeup, and her hair looking like something on a Barbie doll. She looked at him wearily. She obviously wasn’t thrilled about being rejected earlier in the day, but that was all lost on him when Jess and Bailey walked in together.

Jess was wearing a short, too short, jean skirt, skimpy summer tank top, and wedge sandals, and Bailey was wearing a white, strapless sundress. The skirt was flirty and the bodice fitted, leaving him studying the fabric to see if he could see her nipples beneath. Nothing but her small tits and the tight fit of the bodice were holding it up, and he was in hell knowing how much attention this was going to garner. The skirt hit a few inches above her knees, not nearly so short as Jess’ skirt, but plenty to leave little to the imagination, and while her sandals didn’t have quite the high wedge Jess’ sandals did, they were plenty tall to draw his eyes to her legs. These two were definitely going to be getting in some trouble tonight.

Bailey smiled at him, but it was a shy smile. “Well, this promises to be a great night,” he muttered as he snatched the keys up from the counter.

Now

“Michelle, I’m just not up for it. I lost my job nearly two weeks ago. I’m broke, I’m going to be homeless soon if I don’t find a way to make money, and my parole officer, bless his heart for being the most patient and kind man in the world, is not happy with me for not disclosing my record to the clinic. It’s just lousy timing.” She’d been trying to get off the phone with Michelle for nearly five damn minutes, but her dear friend, who didn’t hate her guts like everyone else in town, just wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“That’s precisely why you need to come. It’s St. Paddy’s day, Bailey, and you need a night out. It’s my treat. And I’m pretty sure that means you can’t say no. Come on, please? Parade first and then drinks.”

“Drinks.” She was muttering. “Michelle, I just don’t know.” Bailey was starting to get exasperated. She didn’t want to go out and try to have a good time. It never worked. The good times were over, and regardless of how much she might try to recapture them, they were gone for good.

“You can sulk all night, and I won’t even complain. Just go. It’ll do ya some good. Promise.”

“Why do you still insist on being my friend?”

There was silence from the other end of the line. It was a stupid question to ask, but it popped out anyway. When the silence became overly long and awkward, Bailey cleared her throat and opened her mouth to say something. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she opened her mouth anyway, hoping the words would find her. There was nothing easy about the question she asked.

“I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.” The silence set in again, and Bailey’s mouth remained open, fighting to find the right words. “Listen, go with me. Have a good time. Be normal again. Just . . . just fake it till you make it and all that bullshit. Pretend to be happy until it feels right again. Smile, painful as it is, until the smile doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s all I’m asking.”

“That’s all?” Apparently her speechlessness couldn’t compete with her sarcasm.

“That’s all. Just try.”

“Fine. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. Where, when, and how should I dress?”

The squeal from the other end left Bailey pulling the phone back from her ear. Michelle was nothing if not loud. They hung up moments later, and Bailey wandered around her house trying to figure out exactly how to go about pretending to be normal for a night.

Her small cottage in the woods was rented, and it was ridiculously tiny. Didn’t much matter because Bailey had little to nothing to her name, including appropriate clothes for a St. Patrick’s Day parade. She couldn’t even find anything green in her drawers to wear, and after forty-five minutes of literally trying on one outfit, wandering from her bedroom to the mirror on the bathroom door, stripping back out of the outfit and tossing it on the bed in a huff, and then trying on the next item she found in her closet, she collapsed on her bed and gave up.

She settled on a faded pair of jeans and a gray Notre Dame T-shirt she’d had since she was fifteen. It was tight as hell thanks to the fact she was no longer anywhere near fifteen, but she was guessing that actually made it more appropriate for a night out. What the hell did she know about the socially acceptable way for a twenty-seven-year-old to have fun?

Fun. Could she really do this? She wasn’t holding her breath, and as she stared at herself in the mirror after blow-drying her hair and applying a marginal amount of makeup, the pain hit. Amazing how used to pushing it away she’d gotten, but even more amazing was the way it snuck up and slapped her on the face at the most inopportune times. Her eyes teared for a moment, and she cursed her reflection as she shook her head, refusing to give into it.

The knock on her door pulled her out of her funk, and when she pulled the door open for Michelle, she was nearly pummeled to the floor of her cottage as Michelle tackled her for a hug. “Wow. What the hell’d I do to deserve that?”

“You agreed to go out. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, well, prison tends to put a crimp in one’s social life.” Bailey spoke through Michelle’s hair that was in her face as she held her in a tight embrace. When Michelle finally released her death grip, she pulled back and beamed at Bailey. “What if we see people we know? I mean, no one wants to see me. And frankly, I don’t want the reminders of just how much everyone in the world hates me except for you.”

“I’ll be there, and I’ll kick anyone’s ass who’s mean to you. We’re going to have some fun. To hell with anyone who wants to stand in our way.” Michelle was still beaming at her, and it was almost easy for Bailey to think for a moment that perhaps she could have a good time.

Michelle was wearing a dress. Of course she was, and she looked damned cute too. She was a good six inches taller than Bailey, and she was slim and lithe. God bless Michelle and her good genes. Suddenly Bailey was rethinking her T-shirt and old tattered jeans, but the second she said something, Michelle stopped her. “Oh, no you don’t. You look fabulous in that perfectly casual sorta way you pull off better than anyone else in the world. I remember that T-shirt. You got it when Jess’ parents took us to the football game. We all got one. Can’t believe you still have it!”

“Well, my clothes have been in storage for a while.” She contemplated for a second before opening her mouth again. “I saw him . . . Darren. Few times now. Can’t seem to stop running into him. ’Course, I tracked him down to yell at him in a parking lot one of those times. . .” She trailed off as she caught the wide-eyed shock on Michelle’s face.