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easypeasylindyvesey · 7 months ago

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I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 9,650

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

JULY 2027 (Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death)

“Okay, wait, hang on a sec,” he says in positive disbelief. “You’ve been here for over 2 years, and are just realizing this place exists?”

I roll my eyes. “I know it exists. Central Park’s just always been my go-to.”

“And yet, you hate the sight of more than 20 people in a 100 foot radius of you.”

“Yeah, well, today’s one of the rare times where it’s acceptable.”

It’s July 4th, and we’re spending our evening at the Hudson River park. I always knew how passionate New Yorkers are about pretty much anything, but they take lots of holidays to a whole new level. They’ve got the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, outdoor ice skating during Christmas, the Times Square ball drop on New Year’s Eve, and loads of fireworks for Memorial Day and today. Last year, I spent it sitting on the porch of Ryan’s lake house in Minnesota with him, his family, and hometown friends. We shared the hammock while I wore his ratty crewneck and watched the different colors have their chance of stardom and illuminate the sky. They put on a great show, although for most of the time, he was watching me watch the fireworks, perhaps wondering if he could recreate the mesmerized yet engaged look on my face. We lied down in the hammock after the fireworks were gone and just listened to the sounds of the crickets and bustles of the wind and the chatter inside, with lots of laughing and passionate conversations. It was only until the lights were fully turned off in the house that we quietly made our way back in, tiptoeing on the wood floor and suppressing our laughter as we crept into our room and engaged in a sloppy yet intense make-out session, stifling any potential outbursts of excitement so that we didn’t wake anyone. Shortly after, when we both got startled by what we thought to be the sound of footsteps on the floor, only for it to be a group of squirrels chasing each other outside our window that we forgot was open, it seemed like sleep was the best option since it was the last day of the trip before I went back home to Long Island to be with family and friends for a few weeks. I wonder if his family’s still celebrating. They did invite me this year, but I declined, which they understood. I’m still not ready to leave my comfort zone just yet. At my session yesterday, Dr. Meadows and I talked about how we need to embrace the uncomfortable feelings until we become comfortable with them. It’s definitely a good lesson to learn. I just feel like it’s taking longer than it should. I wonder if he thinks so too.

We’re sitting under a tree, watching the sun peak through and give the leaves their chance to shine. We each brought our own towels and CAVA bowls, as we made a pitstop for dinner. The Statue of Liberty is within plain sight if you squint hard enough. So are the buildings. The water is moving calmly, and it comes as a mental shock when the depressed voice in my head isn’t telling me to jump over the guardrail. Here’s another thing I learned from Dr. Meadows: Depression does not primarily constitute of negative feelings. Some days will be good where you don’t even remember the reason why you’re sad, and other days will feel like the ones in the spring. There’s somewhat of an equal balance, and you just have to sit with those emotions for however long they last. It’s not supposed to last forever, but I can’t help but be afraid of the fact that it just might. I had that realization two months ago, but I was thinking illogically with my head and not my heart. There’s a chance I still am, and I just don’t know it yet.

Jimmy’s been on a CAVA kick recently, and he’s got me to thank for that. Whenever we don’t feel like cooking or putting in any effort, we just order on the app and drive down to pick it up. The bowls are filling and packed with flavor. It’s probably not the best idea to have it once a week, but first of all, it’s summer, and second of all, you only live once. I’d rather indulge too much than not often enough.

“See, it’s not too crowded,” he pipes up, acknowledging the surprisingly sparse crowd. Come to think of it, everyone’s probably off to watch the Macy’s fireworks show further down the waterfront. The park is its own entity. It surrounds the river, but doesn’t take up the entire 315 miles that it encompasses.

“Guess we got lucky,” I reply, biting into my pita.

“Do you wanna move to get a better view once it starts or do you just wanna stay here?”

I lean my head back against the tree. “Let’s just stay. The only time I’ll move is if the ice cream truck comes rolling down.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal.”

The park does their own fireworks show. The only difference is we get a water view, which I think is pretty convenient because you get to see them spread out across the whole sky. There’s never going to be a long period of time where the sky is dark, even though we have at least an hour until it turns into a different shade. It was kind of a last minute idea, but spontaneity never results in bad memories, at least that I know of.

It’s around 8:15, and the show begins at 9:00, so we cherish the last bit of daylight and watch the sun go down over the horizon with the hopes of it returning tomorrow. Unfortunately, the ice cream truck never showed (lame), but we did find a food truck serving churros and cotton candy. We both went with churros because they’re less heavy on the stomach and somewhat easier to eat, and we sat back down in our spot, where a whole new influx of city goers infiltrated their way to sit in front of us with their lawn chairs and dogs on their leashes and a large pack of Corona. I told Jimmy to go snag one for himself as a joke, but he suggested that I might need it more than him. I would hate to ruin the taste of delicious, cinnamon-dusted sticks with a dehydrating, disgusting beverage. I’ve sniffed an empty bottle before, and I will never forget the dull stench. It’s a no for me.

I watch him looking at this family looking out at the water from behind the guardrails. His hat is blocking any noticeable expression from his eyes, but I can’t help but feel bad about how he hasn’t gone to see his family yet. I know he’s called and FaceTimed and texted them, but it doesn’t radiate the same energy as being immersed in their presence. I haven’t seen my family since Christmas, which is heartbreaking. If I went forward with the plans of going to Montauk with Adam and Tate during Memorial Day weekend, maybe I could’ve stopped in for a day or two. Then again, we all know what happened that week. I can’t keep making it an excuse, and I swear that I’m not trying to, but that’s literally how everything has been sent into a downward spiral since his death. I’m not as organized and responsible, and it’s been harder to talk to them. I’ll just stick with daily harassing my roommate and see how it goes from there.

I nudge him in the arm. “You okay?” I ask. He’s obviously not. Should that even be a question?

I’m met with his eyes, which tend to look a lot bigger when he wears a hat. He’s been rocking them lately. I’m unsure of the reason, but I guess he wants to bring back his frat-boy era. Although he might be older and more mature, I doubt it’ll be something he’ll outgrow.

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly.

I want to bring up again how he’s allowed to leave his own place whenever he wants, but we already settled on why both of us haven’t attempted on doing such. I think the routine’s already become redundant to the point where we feel forced to repeat it, even though no one’s holding a gun to our heads. There’s so much of New York to explore, but it feels like we’ve adjusted to the city life where we don’t know if there’s anywhere else we should go.

“Have you talked to them recently?” I ask yet another question to continue the conversation. He considers family as one of his biggest values, and not being able to be surrounded by them on a holiday brings me more guilt than I expected.

“Yeah, I talked to my mom this morning. She said she hopes you’re doing alright, to which I said you are.”

I tilt my head. “You really think so?”

“It’s baby steps, but yeah. Guess the medication’s helping in a good way.”

Yeah. I guess it is.

“Did you get a refill at your last visit?”

“Yep. Just opened it yesterday.”

“Good. See? I told you it wouldn’t be so scary.”

“You think taking pills are scary?” I question uncertainly. “You had the front row seat to it all.”

“Actually, now that I think about it, yeah, I did,” he says with the tiniest grin on his face. It’s meant to be a tease, but I still can’t shake the idea of him viewing and judging me with this new perspective that thinks otherwise.

The sky is close to going fully dark, and the tiniest of stars appear. It would be such a good night for stargazing. I’ve always wanted to do that: lie down and stare at the sky while just talking about anything and everything with that one person. There’d be no range in what could be discussed; no room for worrying about what comes out of whose mouth and no effort required to maintain it. It’s an endless flow of random, reciprocated exchanges that don’t need to be explained. All that’s required is someone that’s going to be worth the time and attention. And for close to 22 months, I had that someone.

And I know damn well that time will never be substituted with another human.

“Thanks for suggesting this,” I tell Jimmy as I finish my churros. I’m so tempted to buy another selection, but I force myself to restrain.

“Yeah, you got it,” he replies, looking out toward the horizon. You can see the buildings lit up with some boats in the distance. Most people in the park have become quiet, as we’re all anticipating the show to begin any moment now. “Figured both of us would want something lowkey.”

“You figured right,” I confirm, readjusting my sitting position by bringing my knees curled up to my chest. He’s outstretched his entire body on his towel that his feet are the only body part of his touching the grass. I should’ve brought a longer one for him given how tall he is, but I’m sure he won’t mind the millions of mosquito bites he’ll feel tomorrow morning.

The sound of the first array of fireworks illuminates the sky, earning a lot of shocked gasps and “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd, with the polite action of clapping and whistling. It really is a beautiful sight. Here comes the second. Specks of yellow, orange, and purple dance across in the air. The same actions repeat. It goes on for several more instances until crackle and comet fireworks successfully intertwine and literally take everyone’s breath away. The planning into a proper execution of stuff like this is worth the extended preparation. It’s even more worth it this year. I wonder if he helped out from above.

I nudge his arm again. “How did you know this was going to be so amazing?” I whisper as a singular firework sounds off.

He leans toward my ear, his mouth almost touching it. “Heard about the turnout from last year. Better than standing on the side of the street and watching them. Thought it’d be more subdued.”

I return my attention to the display.

Now it’s his turn to nudge me. “You havin a good time?” It’s so hard to hear over everyone voicing their approval for what they’re seeing.

“Yeah,” I somewhat yell back, just so he can hear me. “Is that surprising for you to hear?”

He shakes his head, leaning his mouth to my ear again. “Not at all. You deserve it. We deserve it.”

Well, that’s certainly one thing I can agree with.

Quiet settles in as the show continues. This state really knows how to entertain. It’s rarely ever of a let-down and more of a feeling of rejuvenation. I know that I’ll be looking at every holiday differently now (well, mainly Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Valentine’s Day), but maybe it’ll be in a way that will benefit me and give me feelings of hope rather than despair.

I watch him watching the fireworks. He’s completely immersed, and he’s calm. That’s something I feel he hasn’t been in a long time. It feels more natural, more comfortable to talk to him, not really worrying about a potential fight. I think we subconsciously agreed that going at each other’s throats wouldn’t be the best answer. We still have our walls up, but have lowered them in the slightest of ways to make room for each other. It’s a start, and I know that I have not, under any circumstance, earned his trust back, and it’ll take longer than a month and a half (in estimation). He has no right to return it to me. I won’t be mad.

The only thing I will be mad about, however, is if we keep going through this pattern of tolerating each other one day and avoiding contact the next. I don’t want to blow it again. He’s taken up too much of a responsibility to be looking after me, and he’s doing all of it on his own. I don’t care that we’re adults. He should’ve never had to worry about me no longer being asleep in the next room and having more of an empty space he’d feel the need to fill.

And so for the next 20 minutes, we watch the epic conclusion of the fireworks that grace their way atop the river in silence. We don’t feel the need to speak. Instead, we enjoy each other’s company.

Once the show ends, we fold our towels and put them in the tote bag that I brought and discard our food containers in the trash can. Making our way through the crowd, walking briskly, we cut through the trees and benches and back to the side street where the Jeep has remained. Jimmy unlocks it and I throw the bag in the backseat before jumping into the front, shutting the door as he turns on the engine.

He fumbles through the radio stations before picking one that’s playing 80’s hits, specifically “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen, which fits today perfectly. He turns on the headlights and looks in the rearview mirror, trying to detect if there’s enough room for him to pull out onto the street. “That was fun,” he speaks, shifting the car into drive once we’re safely strapped in and carefully moving around the car parked in front of us.

“It was,” I agree.

“We should do more of that,” he says. “Us making plans to hang out. I think it’d motivate us to keep going even when we don’t feel like it, you know?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

I tune out any exterior noise and focus on the tires gliding on the road, the music playing from the speakers, the occasional taps of the steering wheel to serve as either impatience or silently jamming out, perhaps both.

I break the silence. “I know that I can go to you if I need to talk, but I guess I should say that the same goes for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies.

“So you’ve never slept on that couch if you couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I usually get out of bed and open up my curtains to let some light in, well, mainly from the outdoor streetlights, and stare out into it until my eyes hurt and then I shut them again and hope I doze off.”

“That’s kinda creepy,” I laugh.

“How in the world is that creepy?” he argues. “Sometimes, my brain won’t shut off either.”

“Then come wake me at 3am.” I feel proud throwing his words back in his face. I give a smirk in his direction, even though he doesn’t notice since he’s concentrating on driving.

“You’d really like that, wouldn’t you?” I can’t tell if he’s joking.

“Oh, you bet my ass I would.”

“Alright, then. Done deal.”

“Good.”

I still feel like he’s holding a lot inside. It might not eat at him now, but it’ll consume him before he even realizes, leaving me to deal with the brunt of it. I won’t nag him unless I have good reason. For now, he can deal with it in the way he likes it best. I’ll just be watching it slowly unfold, prepared to drown when the time comes.

We get home earlier than anticipated, as the traffic started to die down once we entered the suburban area of Manhattan. I’m surprised there’s not as many people out, unless they’re all partying it up at bars or to some equivalent. Both of us walk through the door, equally drained and reminiscent of the newly formed memories. He beat me to the shower, so I watched TV until he finished, and then I quickly took mine without hopefully falling asleep standing up. Even though I rushed myself, at least I didn’t slip on the floor and fall on my ass again. I had a reasonably good day today. I don’t want it to be ruined now. When I walk out of the bathroom, the TV is turned off, along with the lights. I walk to my room before my journey is cut short.

“Hey,” he hisses. The bed is unmade, the only light coming from the lamp on his nightstand.

I hesitantly stand in the doorway. “What?”

He walks over to stand in front of me. “I’m glad you had a good time tonight. I mean it.”

All I do is nod in agreement.

“Sleep well, yeah?” The tiredness is starting to form in his voice.

“You too,” I respond. “If you needa talk, I’m right next door.”

He gives me a cocky grin. “Got it. Night.”

“Good night.”

The door shuts behind me and I walk through my doorway and do the same, flopping onto my bed and discarding the pillows before crawling in. Since I’ve been awake for most of the day and am still on somewhat of a sugar rush, I focus on the tiniest appearance of light emerging from beneath the curtains and make it my gazing point. Hey, if it helps him, maybe it can help me.

Today was nothing close to a failure, I think to myself. I really hope that it can only go up from here.

And for right now, it is. We came to a mutual agreement to plan at least one social outing a week so both of us wouldn’t go crazy and climb up the walls. This past weekend, we took a day trip to Greenwich Village and acted like tourists: shopping, dining, sightseeing, the whole shebang. Luckily, it wasn’t too humid, so it was comfortable to be outside for the majority of the day. Today, we’re planning on going to an outdoor concert in Central Park.

So here I am in the kitchen, changed into my cute little blue skater dress and floral VANS, waiting for the big man to hurry up because he’s literally taking forever for no reason. “I’m literally gonna leave without you!” I yell from the short distance.

“Give me a minute!” He yells back from his room, the closed door barricading any further transmission of sound.

“I’ve run out of minutes, and fucks to give!” I retort back. “Please, can we just get moseying along?”

It’s like the universe heard me because the door opens as soon as I finish speaking. He’s got on a light blue polo and khaki shorts with his black Nikes that don’t really match. Carrying his phone and keys in one hand and his wallet in the other, he’s really looking like a true adult. It also looks like we’re matching. And no, we did not coordinate that.

“Ready to mosey,” he responds, trudging to the door, turning off the light and walking through it. I grab my purse off the counter and follow behind him, shutting the door and locking it before we wait for the elevator. The ride is quick and easygoing, and before we both know it, we’re in the parking lot. We also have another agreement: every week, we’ll alternate who drives. It’s just easier.

Those rules do not apply tonight, however, given the immensely short length of a walk between here and the park itself, so we stay put on the sidewalk, bags in tow (including the one we used at Hudson River), blending into the crowds. Luckily, he’s able to keep up with me, given that I’m a fast walker, and we get a break from people surrounding us on all sides before waiting to cross the street and immerse ourselves with the greenery.

We find a spot not too far from where the concert will take place and put down our towels, sitting down and waiting patiently for it to begin. We got here half an hour early, and honestly, I’m surprised we even got somewhere to sit. I thought it’d be crowded, but I guess there’s some perks living literally 5 minutes away. Both of us already had dinner, so no last minute planning for that either.

It’s been cloudy all day, but the mugginess doesn’t help. I spent some time actually styling my hair to look presentable for myself, and I feel like I could suffocate. I’ll try my best to not do it around him, though. I don’t wanna give him another life-threatening experience of a lifetime.

“Do you know whose performing tonight?” Jimmy asks me.

“I think it’s a mix of everything. There’s some cover bands, rock, indie, all that kinda stuff.”

“That sounds-” He’s interrupted by the blaring of the large speakers. “That sounds great,” he finishes once it ceases.

“Oh, it better be,” I hypothesize. “Anything you’re particularly excited for?”

He shrugs. “Let’s just see how it goes. You’ll be able to tell.”

A quizzical look appears across my face. “I will?” I can’t help but crack a little smile.

“Yeah. I’ll literally be like, ‘Oh, this is really good!’ No beating around the bush, straight to the point.”

“Alrighty, then.” I accept his answer.

“I’m sure you’ll be bopping your head along.”

“Actually, I’ll be tapping my feet if I’m sitting. Also, you won’t be seeing me concentrate on anything else. Maybe, I’ll close my eyes to make the moment last longer.”

“I support that.”

“I’m so glad.” I reach into the bag to retrieve my water.

“We don’t have to stay for the whole thing, so if there’s ever a time where you wanna leave, just let me know.”

I finish taking my sip. “K. Same rules apply the other way around.”

He motions a quick nod before putting his attention to the stage. It looks like the first act is ready to prepare for their performance. Instruments are being brought out and set up in certain positions. Lots of people have stopped from what they were doing and are slowly approaching to check it out. I’m really looking forward to this. It’s a good distraction, and it’s helping me adjust back to somewhat of a normal life. At least it’s starting to feel like it.

The voice of the public address announcer effortlessly flows through the speakers, welcoming us to what is supposed to be a night of “fun, fabulous music, and free memories.” He reads the crowd the lineup of performances and reviews the rules of conduct before introducing the crowd to the first performance, which is the group of individuals that were just previously on the stage. They greet themselves and quickly begin their first song, which is a combination of piano and guitar before it fully shifts to an electric guitar solo, earning positive praise from the concertgoers. They’re kind of an indie pop/rock band, which I found incredibly fascinating, as I’m sure Jimmy did, too. They performed five songs before the next act took over the stage, and the cycle repeated.

My surroundings keep changing by the minute. The sky fades to a full black, people are either joining or leaving, there’s constant sound flowing out of the speakers. It’s one of those rare moments where everyone is encapsulated by the talent they’re witnessing with their own eyes and ears. Distractions are nowhere to be found: no phones, no obnoxiously loud conversations, no negative feedback from the crowd. We’re all here to enjoy ourselves, and it has a different meaning in the summertime. Everyone is given the chance to be freed from their worries, even if it’s just for a couple hours. Music is always one good escape from the reality of any situation. It will forever be a valid choice.

A series of yawns start to take over and I try to force them out as quickly as I can. I might be tired, but I am definitely not bored. This has been an enjoyable experience, and I feel that I am definitely starting to come back to my old self and look for the joy in the small things. I guess not all hope is lost. Not yet.

I turn my head and catch a little glimpse at him again. He’s leaning back on the towel with his hands, feet lackadaisically pointed out to each side, totally concentrated on the melodies and the occasional incorporation of certain instruments. I don’t know if there’s ever been a time where I’ve seen him genuinely enjoy himself, and it might be hard to tell, given his resting face, but I don’t think he’s had to look over and check on me since we got here. That’s a good thing. His heart is (hopefully) returning to the right place.

After a total of eight acts, performing between 3-5 songs each, with an intermission in between, applause is the only thing you will hear in earshot. Heck, you could probably hear it from across town. Whistles and cheers captivate the park as the public address announcer’s voice reappears across the speakers and thanks everyone for coming out and to get home safe. It’s nice how strangers look out for each other. There’s reason to still have faith in humanity, even if some actions can consider otherwise.

The crowd starts to filter out as I sit criss-cross on my towel, looking all around. “Okay, I have to admit, that was literally so good,” I tell Jimmy, adjusting to fix my sandal strap.

“It was great,” he agrees. “I know they did something like this last year. Did you happen to go?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, anyway, if something like this pops up again, we’re going, you hear me?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Like hell we are.”

The air suddenly feels chilly, and I feel something wet touch the top of my head. “Yeah, Mother Nature really couldn’t have waited for the drizzle to start once we got home?” I say sarcastically.

Just as I say that, there’s a brief pause.

It starts to torrential downpour.

“Ah!” I yell, smiling as I grab my towel and throw it in the bag. “You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Jesus Christ, dude!” He lifts up his towel and instead of putting it in the bag, he shields it right above us. “Start runnin!” We moderately jog across the grass and out of the park and sprint down the sidewalk, approaching the crosswalk as he presses the button rapidly for us to cross.

We both take a minute to catch our breath. “That was a good idea with the towel!” I yell to make sure he can hear me over the steady rainfall. It’s literally so hard to see.

“Well, you know, I would’ve brought my umbrella, had I have known!” Jimmy shouts back. “Don’t really feel like taking a shower once we get back, though I’m sure will anyway. This couldn’t have held out, huh?”

“Mother Nature’s got no patience!” I emphasize.

“Damn straight!”

When the crosswalk changes to the red hand, and giving us 20 seconds to cross, we do a combination of skipping and walking to reduce our chances of getting soaked. I guess we’ve both run out of them.

By the time we’ve gotten to the opposite side of the sidewalk, we’re somewhat blindly running in the rain, the towel no longer providing much support. I’m starting to realize that I wore the wrong shoes. We do our best to avoid any puddles, but it’s difficult to follow each other’s movements when we’re directly next to each other.

The good news is that it’s no longer downpouring and it’s changed into consistent showers. We don’t let up the pace we’re keeping, though.

“Currently making this a core memory!” I shout.

“Yeah, definitely!” He responds. “What are the odds, right?”

What are the odds of everything that’s already happened?

What are the odds of everything that’s yet to come?

After what felt like hours, we finally reach the parking lot of the apartment, moving our way through the parked cars and up to the entrance, opening the door and wiping our shoes on the mat before walking past the front desk and placing ourselves in front of an elevator, me quickly pressing the button so that it can open.

Jimmy lowers the towel that was covering both of our heads and leaves it hanging on his elbow. It’s absolutely doused with Mother Nature’s selfish antics. His hair is sopping wet, with tiny curls peaking around the top. The same thing goes for his shirt. Maybe he was wrong about needing a shower.

I, on the other hand, am shivering as we walk into the elevator and it closes around us. You can hear my teeth chattering as my face is stained with rain droplets and my socks filled with the slightest of water. My hair is damp, which will make it harder for me to even get my hair tie out of it, but maybe I just won’t wash it tonight. I’m physically uncomfortable, although, the adrenaline has yet to exit my body.

“You can hit the shower first,” he says. “You’re literally freezing.”

“That should be impossible in July,” I scoff. “I guess I should be grateful that there was no lightning.”

“Yeah, you probably would’ve shut your eyes the entire time, and eventually run into a pole.”

“It’s better than getting struck by it, I’ll tell you that.”

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been afraid of thunderstorms. It’s not really the thunder; more of the lightning. Even at this somewhat grown age, I’ll still crawl underneath the covers and bury my head underneath my duvet and close my eyes super tight, facing away from the window so I don’t have to feel the lightning reflect through it. I know it can’t hurt me if I’m inside, but I have to keep telling myself that I’m fine, and I’m safe, and trick my brain into being occupied with something to calm me down. Usually, I imagine someone lying in my bed next to me, that someone being a man, just giving me reassuring touches and holding me from behind, letting me know that it’s okay. To replace that feeling, I take one of my stuffed animals and hold it for a little while, and then once I know the storm has passed, I set it free from my grasp. I didn’t bring any with me to Jimmy’s, so in the worst case scenario that I have to survive an late-night/early-morning thunderstorm in a place that doesn’t have my own bed, I don’t know what I’m going to hold to get through it.

Both of us are back inside now, and I take off my shoes and leave them in their own space on the bedroom rug, leaving them there to dry. I hope that I won’t have to get rid of them. I got them for my 18th birthday, and they’re one of my favorite pairs. Besides, they were expensive.

Grabbing my pajamas from the corner of my bed and a bath towel from the closet, I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door and immediately turning on the water so it can warm up. “I’ll be quick!” I yell, although I’m not sure in which direction because I don’t know where he went.

“Okay!” His voice is coming from his room. It’s weird how it quickly echoes through the wall. I thought they’d be thinner here. Guess I’m wrong again.

The showerhead expels warm water and I rid myself of my dress, bra, and underwear and jump in, feeling the goosebumps from the wet weather peel off my skin and wash down the drain. I focus on washing my face and body and decide to wash and condition my hair tomorrow. It’s close to 10:30 already, and all I can think about now is burying myself under the covers and listening to the rain fall outside the balcony and redirect to the window. It tends to make me feel more relaxed.

After perhaps one of my quickest showers ever, I moisturize and brush my teeth before gathering my outfit and walking back into my room, tossing it in my empty laundry basket. His footsteps emerge out of his room.

“It’s all yours,” I say without looking at him. I’m in the process of closing my curtains. “I’m going to bed. I’d wait till you’re done, but I just can’t do anymore of it today. Don’t fall and you’re fine.”

I hear him laugh in the bathroom. “I won’t. And if I do, don’t even come in. Just call 911. It’ll save me the embarrassment.”

“You’d rather have strangers look at you naked?” I jokingly question. “That explains a lot.”

“Hey, cut it out,” he teases, the door clicking shut behind him.

Once I hear the water running, I turn to face the windows (technically, the curtains), and try to focus on the rain bouncing off the glass. It sounds like it’s drizzling now, so I can relax, although, I’m sure my brain won’t let me until he’s out of the bathroom in one piece. I mean, is there a possibility that he could slip and fall and crack his head open? Yes. But will it happen 9 times out of 10? No. My brain has definitely been rewired. I’m not sure I like how it’s become.

I keep my eyes open, averting my gaze from the floor to the forbidden closet to the edge of the bed. I’m bored. I don’t have any energy to force myself to sleep. I guess the voices will win once again tonight.

I would’ve reached for my phone, but since I turned it off, I go for the remote instead and let the bright screen stimulate my brain. I flip through the channels before settling on “American Dad.” It’s definitely a raunchy cartoon, although you have to admit that it is funny. I keep the volume at an odd 7. That’s my magic number for TV’s. No, don’t ask why. I couldn’t tell you.

Readjusting myself in the bed, I choose to sit up and prop the pillow behind me. I keep my glasses off and consciously choose to get a headache in the late night hours. I’ll definitely feel the effects of it tomorrow morning.

“Hey, Abb, can you get out here?” Oh, please don’t tell me.

“You’re fuckin kidding me,” I whisper to myself loudly, as I leave the coziness of my bed and open the door. He’s standing outside the bathroom, freshly showered and changed.

“What?” I exhaustedly deadpan.

Jimmy motions me into the bathroom, pointing to the tile floor. “Did you know this was cracked?” He’s having me look at the uprooted tiles near the tub that are slightly dented.

“No?” It comes out as a question, but it’s honest. “What happened?”

“You seriously haven’t noticed?”

This is gonna become a huge thing, too, isn’t it?

“No, Jim, I haven’t. We can get it fixed, though.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“And why is that?”

“Because that’s the dent your head created when you fell over. You hit it hard enough to literally almost break the tiles.”

I grow quiet.

“It’s been here for the last month and a half in case you cared to notice.” He doesn’t sound angry, but it’s more of like he’s trying to explain something and that he just can’t get the right words out.

“I just want to let you know that everytime I come in here, I can’t help but look at that spot. I’m afraid to even step on it because these tiles are not that sturdy. If one goes, almost half of them will fall through the ceiling of the apartment below us. I don’t really feel like replacing them.”

I shake my head. “Is there a point to this or can I go back to bed?”

“Yes. Look over here.” He’s pointing to the tub now, at the very bottom. I see faint yet dark marks.

“And what’s that?”

“That’s the blood that somewhat stained when you hit your head. It’s gone for the most part, but I’ll try to get it off another day.”

I stare at it.

He motions his hand again. “And then these tiles surrounding the tub were filled with little droplets from your wrist. When you went to bed that night, I stayed up trying to clean it out, but since it was left there for so long, I doubt it’s ever going to fully fade.”

Why is he admitting all of this now?

“Are you trying to make me feel more guilty?” I lean against the doorframe.

He sighs. “I’m trying to make you understand that this impacted me, and I’m met with that reminder every single day. I know I don’t really talk about my feelings much, but I will never view this place the same way I ever used to.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s because of me, I know,” already fed up with his antics as I turn around.

I feel a hand tightly grab my wrist and have me rotate in the opposite direction, the other hand remaining at its side. “Listen to me,” he says, his free hand touching my chin to force me to look at him.

I fight it off. “Do not touch me,” I say tiredly.

Another frustrated sigh escapes his mouth. I look at him with furrowed brows and a reasonable frown. My chin is lingering with his tough yet loose grip of his fingers. It tickles while feeling like I’m being choked.

“It’s not because of you. It was your mind not being in the right place.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“You are not in the same place you were back then. You’re doing better. You’re trying. I see it, and I’m proud of you. I still have no idea what you were thinking, but this is one of the rare times I will be grateful that you were unsuccessful. In this case, I’m helping you move on from Ryan, and you’re helping me move on from the past version of yourself.”

“I haven’t moved on from him yet,” I find myself saying.

“I know you haven’t. It might not happen until a little while longer, but please, just please don’t rush it. Don’t listen to what I said. I was being a dick.”

“You sure were,” I confirm.

He playfully rolls his eyes. Taking his thumbs, he traces over the outlines of the blade on my wrists. Looking at me again, the sparkle in his eyes has significantly diminished.

“If you ever, ever feel like you’re going to do something like this again, you need to tell me.”

I look down at his light grip on both arms. “Won’t need to worry about that. It was a one-and-done thing. I’ll, uh, I’ll add it to the pinky promise.”

He laughs. “Okay.” It’s nice to see him crack a smile. I feel like he hasn’t done it in forever.

I don’t free myself from the wall right away. Instead, we just stand there, my gaze being directed toward the floor and his lower half where he can’t really catch me looking anywhere.

My voice quivers as I look up at him with glistening eyes. “I never meant to hurt you,” I croak out, my face becoming visibly upset, more wet than it was before.

“No, Abb, I know,” he says as he lets go of my wrists and pulls me into a hug, my face dampening his T-shirt again, only this time, we’re standing up, and I have full control of what to do next. His hand makes short, slow movements down my back, taking a loud breath. “I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

That just makes me cry even harder, but not in the way I did once I collapsed on his floor by the kitchen chairs. “Are you sure we are?”

“As of right now, yes,” he says soothingly, his hand continuing to move. “Unless you want to go full survivor mode on me again.”

I laugh through the tears. “No, I’m good. One time is enough.”

Pulling back from him, he assesses me head to toe, and then moves his thumbs to underneath my eyes, wiping the tears away so delicately, so easily without a change in facial expression. He then rests his hands beneath my shoulders, his warm touch sending me into an absolute oblivion. Luckily, I don’t have to tilt up to look at him because he levels his own face to mine, bending his knees in the process.

We just stare at each other. No words. I’m legit frozen. At the point, only he can unfreeze me.

The exhaling from his nose somehow finds its way to bounce on my own face, twitching both of my eyes. I feel like I’m here against my will. I have to leave. I have to go now.

I part my lips ever so slightly. “Jimmy, can you let go of me?” I meant for it to come out louder, but my voice is temporarily stuck in low power mode.

He quickly releases his hands. “Yeah, sorry.” It comes out flustered. My skin still burns.

He reaches his arm above me to turn off the light, but doesn’t back up. I guess he’s waiting for me to leave first.

“Y’know what?” He says, his arm still remaining in the air, fingers entangled with the light switch.

“God, Jim. What?” I’m unamused.

I can’t even see his eyes anymore, but his head has barely moved. “You can go back to bed now,” he announces snarkily.

I roll my eyes and turn around. “Finally.”

“I saw that, by the way.” His footsteps trail behind mine.

“I don’t care. You’ve held me hostage for the last 20 minutes, hell, probably longer.”

“Really? I thought time kinda stopped, didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s time I can’t get back now, so thanks for that,” I say with the slightest of attitude, shutting my door for the second and final time tonight.

“Anytime.” His door shuts now, too.

All I can do is stare at the TV and not even move to the bed. I’m left standing on the carpet like a statue.

What the hell was that?

I’m definitely overthinking it, and I’ll be devoted to figuring out its hidden meaning, if there is any, for the next few days. The simultaneous familiarity and unfamiliarity of his contact has me wondering if he’s changed how he views me. There’s the obvious answer, which is yes, and then there’s the not so obvious answer, which is actually posed as a question.

Have I changed the way I view him?

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the final full weekend of the month arrives, both Jimmy and I agree on an evening stroll through East Village, and ending it the way we did when we first were here four months ago: pizza.

Sitting in the stuffy, crowded, yet delicious smelling joint, we enjoy our slices while conversing about anything and everything. I remember back in March, this exact scenario occurred, only that time, there was barely any discussion. We were still processing what happened and how new it was. No playful banter could’ve saved us from the feelings of dread that scattered around like ashes.

That reminds me that he’s buried deep in the ground. Well, it’s only his body anyway. To me, his soul is still alive. I try to catch glimpses of it in everything I see or do. I don’t believe he’s come back reincarnated as an animal yet. I’ll be patient. It is a virtue, after all.

“My dad texted me today,” Jimmy says, breaking the crust of his slice.

I raise my eyebrows while sipping my water. “What’d he say?” I’m actually kinda curious.

“Well, he asked me when the hell I’m coming back home, to which I said ‘I don’t know,’ and then he got annoyed. I know I told you my family’s aware of what’s going on, but I’m sure they’re thinking if I’ll actually get to go visit them in person.”

And so the guilt resurfaces.

“But,” he says with a tinge of hope, “he did let me know that there was a couple who canceled their trip to Martha’s Vineyard in mid-August. Since we can’t fit the whole family in, and it’ll be too short notice, he suggested that maybe we could reserve it instead. Of course, that’s if you’re comfortable with leaving.”

Damn, that really does sound like a good time. It’s a mini vacation out of the city. It’d be a good escape for my mind, a great place to rejuvenate.

“How long is the trip?” I feel that’s a good first question to pose.

“A week” are the words that come out of his mouth.

An entire week?

“Specifically, the week before training camp starts.” he interjects. “We’d get there on Monday and leave Sunday.”

I click my tongue, showing my internal debacle that is obviously invisible. “I don’t know,” I say with defeat.

“Abby, c’mon,” he says sadly. “Vacation’s almost over. We need to make most of the time we have now, because once camp starts, all our schedule’s gonna consist of is practice, practice, practice. We’re not gonna have the luxury of taking a trip up there. It’d be too much, too stressful, and then we’d have to book it on our own time. You really wanna wait till next summer?”

“Everything could be different then,” I say with the tiniest bit of anxiety.

“That’s what I’m saying. I know you don’t like to be rushed, but I think this could be good for us. Just think about it. He’ll book the hotel and room, although he needs to know by at least August 8th, 14th the latest. Do you think that’s enough time?”

“It’s literally 2 full weeks,” I clarify. “Yeah, that’s plenty.”

“Okay,” he concludes. “Hey, guess what?”

I look at him stupidly, picking up my slice. “What?”

“A little birdie once told me that I can leave whenever I want and go anywhere.”

I roll my eyes.

“We’ve each got a car, plenty of space, and nowhere we need to be. Think of it as a spontaneous trip.” He gives me a convincing tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll think of it as a distraction,” I counterargue.

He shrugs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

And now this decision will keep me up. Thanks for that!

“Are your parents asking you to go back to the Island for a bit?” Is he trying to subtly kick me out or something?

“No.” I get straight to the point. “As long as I’m taking care of myself, then they can’t really force me. Maybe I’ll stop by before preseason starts, but I just haven’t been in the mood. I know that sounds bad. I love them. I really do. I just don’t wanna drive 2 hours to see them and all they’ll wanna talk about is how he’s dead.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t do that,” Jimmy reassures. “Do they know you’re seeing a therapist?”

I nod. “Well, when you called them saying I almost went to the afterlife, then yeah, they do. They’re happy I’m getting help.”

“Good.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before he asks me another question. “Anything you need to get off your chest?”

I slowly breathe out of my mouth. “I miss the team.” It’s hard when most of them went home and didn’t come back to visit. It’s only four more weeks until we all reunite, but I can’t help but think they kept their distance because of how screwed up I was.

“Yeah, I miss ‘em, too,” he admits. “But, hey. We can look forward to carpools for practice and dinners, getting back in the locker room. It’ll be here before we know it. This season is gonna mean a lot more than the previous ones ever did. We’ll make sure that point gets across.”

“I just hope we can perform to that standard. We’ve got a huge hole to not necessarily fill, but more of work our way around.”

“I completely agree. We’ll do it for him.”

“We sure will.”

It’s quiet again. I hate these tiny bits of silence. I always feel pressured to talk so that it’s not awkward, but it’s kinda ceased now. I wouldn’t say it’s become easy, but more natural to deal with. There’s a lot of times where you can’t explain what you’re feeling with words, and just need actions to explain for you.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I stand up and push in my chair, discarding my plate and cup in the trash. He does the same. Exiting out the door, we find ourselves back on the sidewalk and I unlock my car from a distance, but no one’s around, so there’s a low risk of someone actually breaking in and driving away with it. We open our respective doors and after we sit down, I press the Start Engine button, watching everything power on. It takes me a minute to compose myself.

I turn to face Jimmy. “I am going to think about it,” I tell him.

“Please do,” he encourages. “I think it’d be good for us.”

Us.

Not just me and not just you?

Together instead of separate?

Us?

That night in the bathroom was swept under the rug as well. Both of us woke the next morning pretending to not have any recollection of it. I’m guessing it didn’t mean anything. Not saying that it did, well, to me at least, but I couldn’t help but wonder. My brain has really done me no good.

“Yeah,” I come to conclude. “Me too.”

I pull out of the shoulder and assess the surrounding traffic, deciding to gun it and totally not almost cut someone off, but I had plenty of room before they approached me, so it’s fine. I am met with a rude honk from behind, though.

“You’re really just living life on the edge, aren’t you?” Jimmy says. “Dude looked pissed beyond belief.”

“He’s a grown man with a small dick that drives a huge truck,” I joke, sounding somewhat serious, because it’s true. “You don’t claim full ownership of the road. I don’t care how big your vehicle is.”

“What does that say about my Wrangler then?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a grown man that doesn’t drive a truck.”

“Wanna elaborate any further?” My heart starts pounding out of my chest.

“I would, but then we’re reaching a weird and inappropriate discussion,” I say without a tinge of nerves, which is surprising.

“Not really,” he rebuts. “We’re both adults.”

“I know, but I just don’t wanna talk about that.” I concentrate on the road.

“Bad experience?” I can tell he’s doing this to gain a reaction. That fucking instigator.

“You’re such an asshole,” I start off, stopping at a red light. “Could I suspect the same for you?”

He scoffs. “Suspect whatever you want.”

“Fine by me.” I return my foot to the gas pedal, accelerating at a decent speed.

“Seriously, though, you’ve never…” His voice trails off, alluding to the obvious.

“Not till my wedding night,” I shoot at him with pure honesty. “My parents would kill me. They’d probably wonder where they failed.”

“Look at you sticking to it,” he jokes.

“I’m literally 24, Jim. There’s no reason for me to do it now, let alone jump in another relationship, experience all of that again, another potential failure, and then I’m back to the drawing board.”

“Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I have been ever since.”

“Well, you don’t need to right now. It’s all gonna unfold when it needs to.”

“What are you, a spiritual guru?”

I get a good laugh to catch in his throat. “No, but maybe that should be my alter ego.”

“We’ll see how far that gets you.”

“Okay, twerp.” I can tell he’s grinning so hard right now. Why has he become such a menace recently?

“Can I ask you something now?” I take the exit ramp out of the village and into Midtown.

“Anything.”

I snicker under my breath, excited to return the favor. “Have you ever…?” Nothing else comes out.

“Oh, what, it’s my turn now?”

“Hey, whatever is said in here does not leave,” I propose.

He taps his fingers on the center console. “You gonna add it to the list?”

“It really should be a universal rule, but in case you didn’t know that prior to now, then I will. Continue.”

“Short answer, no. That probably sounds embarrassing.”

I feel the need to brake so bad, but I just lower my speed while hopefully not trying to collide with another vehicle or an object or even a person because I’m actually kinda surprised at this information. “Wait, actually? And for the record, it’s not embarrassing.”

“Well, thanks for making me feel validated,” he replies. “And no, I’m kinda in the same predicament. Obviously haven’t found the right girl yet.”

“What’s takin you so long, then? I’m kinda bummed no one’s willingly throwing themselves at you.”

“I’m just not really focusing on it,” he admits. “I’d hate to do somewhat of long distance since we’d be traveling for road games, barely any days off. Don’t get me wrong, of course I want to be in a relationship, but it’s just kinda difficult circumstances.”

“Yeah, you’ve had them, though.”

“Just one,” he once again surprises me, “for a few years. We agreed to end it because of the schedule conflicts and rarely seeing each other. Haven’t found the time for another.”

“Did it at least end on good terms?” I feel like I’m nagging, but I’m getting to know another side of him that I’ve never seen.

“It did,” he clarifies. “We text sometimes, catching up and everything. She reached out to me when she heard about Ryan, had a quick little exchange. Nothing too crazy. And you obviously dated before he came around, am I right?”

“Two relationships that both failed, but I don’t really care much about it anymore because one ended mutually and the other I got cheated on, so that explains itself.”

“Damn, Abb, I’m sorry.” He sounds concerned. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know I didn’t. That’s why I waited so long to get with Ryan. I was afraid it was gonna turn out like the others.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?”

“No, I’m really not, because it didn’t have to end. Even if it did, by choice, I’d feel better knowing he was still out there and thriving than finding himself enclosed on all four sides, being lowered into the dirt without anyone being able to help. And I know you thought it was a blessing in disguise, but based on where it’s gotten me, I would say it was a curse, something the universe had to conspire because I had something too good.”

“You know I didn’t mean that, either, right?” His voice is a little bit on edge.

“I know that the only thing you have ever meant since all of this started was that we would get through this together, and we’re doing it, and it might not be how we both thought, but at least it’s something.”

We’ve finally made it back to the apartment, pulling into my spot and putting the car in park. This also signifies the end of this conversation.

“This stays in here,” I say as I gesture my finger around the entire car.

“You have my word.” Jimmy opens up the door and shuts it behind him, making his way to the entrance.

It’s my turn to get out, grabbing my purse, keys, and phone all in one hand, shutting the door and locking the car. I lean against the drivers side, watching him disappear. We were able to witness a different version of ourselves today. It was raw and non-judgmental. I’ll see how long it lasts.

#fictional jimmy vesey

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