Rescued

"Uh...okay. I'm sorry you came all this way—"

She waved away my comment. I stood there as she turned and made her way back to the car, sliding behind the wheel and driving off. I was upset and disappointed, although those words were not strong enough to describe how I felt now that I would not be spending time with her. Besides, there was another emotion that trumped my disappointment...rage.

I hurried into the building, taking the stairs two at a time and shoving the key in the lock, practically ripping the door off its hinges as I threw it open. She wasn't in the living room.

"Wilma!"

My voice was shrill, hyper...angry. If she knew anything about me, she should know to tread lightly. But when she made her way out of the bedroom, I suddenly wondered if she'd lost her mind. She was dressed in a tiny, tiny towel...and nothing else. And she had those toe-separators between her toes, clearly having re-painted her toenails again. She looked like a woman waiting for her partner to come home so she could entice...so she could ravage...so she could fuck her. There certainly was no indication she was just a friend or a simple houseguest.

I just stared at her, incredulous. Was she fucking kidding? How had she known? She must have overheard my conversation...or read my text messages? My emails? I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath. I wondered what Frankie had thought, seeing this woman, who seemed so 'at home' in my place, wearing her tiny little towel as if she was my lover waiting for me to return home from a hard day's work. And there was no telling what Wilma had actually said to her. Frankie probably thought I was playing games. Or worse, that I had lied about being involved with someone. When I opened my eyes, I knew they were probably almost black with anger.

"What the fuck Wilma?" It was all I could sputter.

"What?" She answered, feigning ignorance. "Oh, are you talking about the person that stopped by for you, Frances something? She said she would wait for you downstairs."

"Pack your shit."

Those words shocked her. She hesitated, not moving a muscle. But I wasn't in the mood for an explanation. I wanted her gone so I could go after Frankie. Since she still hadn't moved, I stormed past her and grabbed one of the duffle bags she'd brought, shoving any of her clothing I could find into it.

"Wait a minute—"

"You knew! You knew and you still played your stupid little fucking games?! Inmyapartment? After whatyouput me through?!"

I was screaming like a wild woman, shoving her paints and brushes into the same bag carelessly, a no-no in Wilma's world.

"You're gonna ruin them!" She protested, trying to stop me.

"I want you gone! I want you out!"

She snatched the bag from me, realizing I was serious and understanding that unless she started packing, I would continue to do it for her. So she started gathering her things, stacking some on the bed, shoving others in the bag she held, all the while avoiding my gaze. She was trying to look pitiful, trying to solicit a reaction from me...it wasn't working. Instead, I left the bedroom so she could pack by herself, pacing the floor of my moderately sized living room as I tried to calm down.

She stayed in there for an hour. Again, she knew me, so she knew it would take at least that amount of time for me to calm down. And I had...a little. I had also tried to call Frankie, who had sent my call directly to voicemail. That was probably the reason I had calmed down only a little. I grabbed a yogurt, forcing myself to eat something before I snapped again. I wasn't a very nice person when I was hungry and I hadn't eaten since 11 that morning. I was licking the spoon, trying to think of the best time to head to Philadelphia, when she finally emerged from the bedroom, dragging a duffle bag and a few of her easels behind her. She'd brought 4 bags with her, so a part of me was wondering why she only had one now. The other part of me knew she was still up to something.

She dropped the bag down beside the front door, sighing dramatically. I just sat on the sofa and watched her, too angry to play her silly games. Finally, after another dramatic sigh, she turned to face me.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

I didn't say a word, continuing to stare at her coldly.

"I mean, I didn't really know, I kinda suspected she was the one. But she just walked in here, I didn't even know she was coming, you didn't tell me..."

She trailed off and I still sat quietly, just watching her. Did she really expect me to have my plans approved by someone who was freeloading? Seriously? Someone who wasnota significant part of my life anymore? I just waited for her to get a grip on reality.

"Okay, you're right, you don't have to tell me, it'syourplace. But..."

I watched her fumbling, searching for the right words, refusing to offer her any assistance. Finally she huffed with frustration.

"I thought, since you let me stay, you and I—"

"You'vegotto be joking," I spit out.

She looked at me and I could see the tears wetting her lashes. I rolled my eyes. Tears were another one of her weapons.

"You don't have to say it like that, I mean—"

"You gave me a fucking STD Wil! I mean, really? Did you really think I wanted to try again? I wasn't clear three years ago?"

"Then why did you let me stay?!" She yelled angrily.

"Because you said you had nowhere to go! I didn't know you were playing your stupid little games again!"

She dropped down to the floor, her legs crossed, her face hidden by her hands as she cried. I rolled my eyes again, finishing my yogurt as I watched from the sofa. I was not in the mood for her theatrics. I needed to shower and change...

She finished crying, pouted for a few more minutes, and then crawled over to sit beside me on the sofa.

"Who is she?" She asked sullenly.

"That's not really the point Wil. I'm not going to date you again. You cheated, you lied, you gave me an STD...there's no way I could ever trust you again. Like I said three years ago."

She sighed, "but I've had some time to grow up. I miss you Earthy, I...I want another chance."
I shook my head, I knew it! I just knew it! "No. We can be friends, but I'm not going to put my peace of mind in your hands again."

"Because ofher?" She asked a little bitterly.

"No, because ofyou."

She said nothing for a few moments. I glanced at my watch impatiently.

"So you're going tohernow?"

I stood, "I'm not answering that. Or any other questions about her. I just want you to leave."

She stood also, "but Earthy—"

"And oh my God, please stop calling me that!" I snapped.

Stunned again, it took her a moment to recover. "Sorry. But I do really need a place to stay."

I shook my head as I walked toward the bathroom, more because I knew I would probably cave and let her stay, "whatever Wil, I need to get going." I slammed the bathroom door behind me.

*

We didn't resolve her housing dilemma before I left. In fact, I didn't say another word to her. But considering she'd stopped packing, I knew she would probably still be there when I returned. I decided not to think about it at the moment. I needed to figure out what I would say to Frankie. The truth? If someone I was interested in had their ex living with them...it would make me nervous, to say the least. It would suggest to me that things were not 'over' with that ex, especially if that person had failed to tell me about said ex just a few days earlier when we were 'coming clean' about our pasts. I sighed, how had I messed up before I was even in a relationship officially?

The lights were on in her first floor apartment when I pulled up. I even saw her walk past the windows a few times as I sat in the dark of my car trying to find some courage. I still didn't know what I was going to say to her, but I took a deep breath and left the comfort of my car anyway. I might as well see if there was anything worth saving with her.

I knocked on the door, holding my breath. My hands were trembling a little by the time it swung open. She didn't look entirely surprised to see me...I guess that was good? She hesitated for a moment, but then stepped aside so I could enter. I did so, afraid to meet those soul-piercing eyes of hers. I waited as she closed and locked the door, but then we just stood there in silence. She was clearly not going to give me a break and I didn't blame her. I took another deep breath before diving in.

"I'm really sorry. I haven't seen her in years. She just showed up last weekend and said she needed a place to stay for a few days. I should have told you."

She raised a brow, "your ex then?" She asked coolly.

I nodded, realizing I hadn't explained who she was.

She didn't say anything else, making her way to the kitchen. I followed, realizing I smelled something cooking. I watched her stir a rather large pot of tomato sauce, tasting it before adding more spices. She then dumped in a plate filled with diced sausage and stirred the sauce again. Moments later she was covering the large pot, putting on another with water to boil.

"So, you two trying to work things out?" She asked casually.

I wasn't sure if she was faking disinterest or if she really was no longer interested. "No. She's the one that gave me the STD. Absolutely no way."

She nodded, grating a block of mozzarella cheese.

"She sort of hinted that you two were getting back together."

I fumed internally, refusing to give voice to the words bouncing around in my head. I really should have kicked her out.

"She asked about that after you left," I finally said.

Frankie raised her head to look at me, her eyes darker than I'd ever seen them, her face impassive.

"Oh?" She asked, still somewhat casually.

I sighed, "look, if she had asked two and half years ago, when I was still hurting, maybe. But not anymore."

She put down the cheese and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, turning to face me. "Then what is she doing there?" She asked. The million dollar question.

With those golden-hued eyes watching me so closely, I couldn't hide the fact that I had been a little flattered when she'd come to me, homeless, penniless, probably regretting that she'd played me for a fool. But that didn't mean I wanted to be with her again. I didn't love her anymore, not like that. I knew that with absolute certainty.

"Honestly," I finally admitted, "I was glad she had to crawl back to me after what she did. But I would never be with her again."

I certainly hadn't planned to share those feelings with her, but I think total honesty was necessary at the moment. If I wanted to have a chance with Frankie at all, I knew she would want to know what was really going on. She wouldn't want some watered down version of the truth, where I made promises I couldn't keep because I wasn't even being honest with myself.

It was a risk, admitting those feelings, but I could see her shoulders relax just a fraction of an inch. And those eyes, those amazingly sexy, tantalizing eyes were just a little warmer. She mixed the cheese into the sauce, stirring it until it melted. Then she dumped a box of spaghetti into the boiling water. We didn't say much as she finished preparing her late dinner. And I tried to ignore my grumbling stomach, wondering if I would be invited to join her.

When she was done, she removed two plates from the cabinet and I smiled a little. She served the food, handing me one of the plates. I sat at the small, round table in the kitchen, waiting patiently for her to grab a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and pour some into glasses she'd grabbed from another cabinet. When she sat across from me, we started eating. The sauce was delicious, the spaghetti perfectly cooked, the wine cool, light, and a little fruity. The food was what my stomach needed and her slight smile, when I caught her gaze, was what my heart needed. I still had every intention of killing Wilma when I got the chance, but for now I was content to be sitting across from this amazing woman, wiping spaghetti sauce from my chin.

*

We didn't talk about it again before I left. I didn't want to leave, but it seemed only right considering I'd given Frankie reason to hesitate. Jumping into bed with her didn't seem like the best way to resolve the situation. And I wasn't given an invitation to stay anyway.

It was almost 2am when I found a parking spot and made my way up to my apartment. I was tired, annoyed and frustrated, both emotionally and sexually, and I wasn't in the mood for a fight with Wilma. Little did I know Wilma had a surprise for me, whether I wanted to deal with her or not. When I opened my apartment door, I noticed right away that most of her junk was gone. A quick perusal of the bedroom revealed thatallof her stuff was gone. And then, as I started to look around, I noticed that some of my dresser drawers were askew, my closet was wide open...and my Apple laptop was nowhere to be found. As I kept searching, I realized the credit cards I kept for emergencies, which she would know about of course, were gone, as was my ipod, some cash I had lying around, the diamond earrings I'd bought myself for my 35th birthday, a cute little bag I'd just found at Hermes and a few other odds and ends. I could not believe it.

I sat on my sofa, stunned at first, then angry...and then the tears came. It was too much. The ordeal of the last week, the argument earlier this evening, Frankie's disappointment, and now this? It was all just too much.

My cell rang as I was sitting there having a pity party. I snatched it up, thinking it was Wilma calling to tell me it was a joke and she was outside...it wasn't Wilma.

"What's wrong?" That deep, husky voice expressing concern for me just made me cry harder.

In between my mewling and bawling, I begged her to give me a moment to pull myself together. She waited, pretty patiently, until I calmed down a bit and was just sniffling before she asked again.

"She stole my stuff," I said, sniffling.

"What do you mean?"

I recited the list of missing things, certain it was not a complete list. When I was done, she was silent again for a few minutes.

"Call the police."

I recalled having a similar conversation with her the first day we met, when she wanted me to file a report against the homeless men. I was about to disappoint her again.

"I can't do that."

I didn't offer an explanation, none would be satisfactory. She paused for a moment or two again before asking if I had renter's insurance.

"No, but it's not about replacing the stuff. She knows I can replace it easily. I just can't believe she would do this."

I was upset and not really paying attention to what I'd said or I would never have uttered those words. In fact, I didn't realize what I'd said until she asked, "you can replace thousands of dollars worth of stuff? Easily?"

There was no reason she would know, I mean how could she? I had a normal job, I lived in a pretty normal apartment and I drove a car that was 10 years old. I didn't dress in very expensive clothes and I didn't insist on paying for everything or flaunting my money. But I didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not when I had already put her through the wringer with Wilma. I sighed.

"Can we talk about that another time?" I asked desperately.

"Sure...but I mean..." She paused for a few more moments, "how easily?"

I shook my head and sighed again, "Frankie, you're already lukewarm about me. Do we have to do this now?"

"You're not calling the cops when someone just stole about $10,000 worth of your shit." She insisted. "Why?"

So I told her. I didn't give her a dollar amount, but I told her about my friend's investments. I told her I worked because I loved my job, not because I needed to. And I told her I drove my Toyota because it was running just fine and didn't need to be replaced. All of that was met by more silence.

"Jeez, if there was ever a day that would make you not want to date me, this is it." I muttered.

For some reason that made her sigh, "is that what you think? That your ex and your bank account would scare me off? You think I'm that insecure?"

I was shaking my head, "no, of course not. It's just that I might seem less than appealing right now..." I trailed off, not sure where I was going or what I was saying.

"Tess?"

She said it softly, her voice heavy and husky...and sexy as all hell.

"Yea?"

"I think you should call the police. I think you should have your locks changed and cancel your credit cards. But first, I think you should get some sleep, okay?"

I nodded, knowing she could not see me.

"I'll see you soon."

And she hung up.

I wasn't sure what she meant when she said she'd see me soon, but after downing a rather large helping of wine, and then some more on top of that, I did as she suggested and crawled into bed, defeated.

*

I thought the pounding was in my head. I shut my eyes tighter, willing myself back to sleep, but it kept on. Different patterns for a long enough time that I was forced to open my eyes and actually sit up...a mistake, given the amount of alcohol I'd consumed just a few hours ago. I finally realized the pounding was not in my head, it was on my front door. God, why the hell had I drunk so much? Slowly I made my way out of bed and headed toward the front door.

"For the love of God, stop fucking pounding!"

I screamed it, although the volume of my voice didnothelp my head at all.

"Tess, open up! I'm so sorry! Let me in!"

Justine. I approached the door and undid the locks, removing the chain and then stepping back. She entered and pulled me into her arms.

"Are you okay? She called me and told me what she did! Did she really steal your stuff?!"

"Justine, please, you've gotta lower your voice."

She nodded enthusiastically, lowering it, but not enough to suit me.

"She called me this morning, ranting and raving about how she stole your stuff to teach you a lesson. She didn't, did she?"

I sat on the sofa, holding my head, closing my eyes.

"She did."

Justine knelt in front of me, grabbing my hands and holding them tight.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea Tess, I really didn't. I should have asked you first before I gave her your address. I'm such a fucking idiot!"

I removed my hands from hers and placed them on her cheeks, squeezing gently until her lips puckered.

"Justine, please...just...shut...up."

She nodded when I removed my hands. Then she stood and started looking around the apartment, disappearing into the bedroom.

"Fuck, she took that leather jacket you bought last winter! I wanted to borrow that!" She called from the bedroom.

I shook my head, resting it in my hands again.

"And that black and cream suit you just bought! Fuck!"

In a minute I would stand and grab her by her long, curly locks and kick her out of my apartment. In a minute. As soon as the room stopped spinning. But then someone else knocked on the door. I was certain I had died and gone to hell.

"You have got to be fucking kid—"

I stopped short, surprised to see a man I didn't know standing on my doorstep. He wore jeans and a tee shirt emblazoned with the name of a business.

"Uh, are you Teresa Martin?" He asked, a little surprised by my greeting.

I nodded and he handed me his card. A locksmith.

"Someone named Frances Young called me this morning and said you needed your locks changed immediately?"

I smiled. I know it was stupid, but it was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a long time. I nodded, forgetting about the pain bouncing around in my head for a moment, stepping aside so he could get to work. He was fast and efficient. By the time Justine made her way back to the living room, he was finishing up.