Falling into a Second Chance by Alie Garnett
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Standingin the middle of Agatha Christie Lovely’s kitchen, Chris couldn’t think. How had he never seen it? Of course, the last time he had seen her, he had been hungover, but he had recognized her that night.
When she had been stick-thin with wild hair, he recognized her because that was how she had looked and acted when they were in high school. But it had never been the real her. The real her was the woman in this house with the wicked sense of humor and quick wit. She was the amazing woman he wanted to spend his life with, but underneath it all was her prickly side, the side that she hid her real self behind. She had been hurt by him, time and time again. Hurt by the immature guy who thought that because he could run with a football, he was better than anyone else.
She had been the first face he had seen when he had arrived at PS12 for the first time. She was carrying a plastic bag full of supplies that all the kids needed for the school year—just her and her bag, no mom or dad. When he saw her, he wished his own parents weren’t there; they were just fighting anyway. In class they had been assigned to sit together because their names, Lowell and Lovely, were close in the alphabet. She had long black hair and a red headband to hold it off her face. By the next week, she had been moved to a different table because she could already read. They never sat at the same table again that year because she was smart, and he was not.
The next year, they were not in the same class at all. He only saw her on the playground. That year, all the kids liked to play a game called kiss or kill. It was like tag, but if you caught the person, you could choose to kiss them or kill them, aka knock them to the ground. That year he kissed her once and killed her fifteen times. Because she was a girl. By Christmas, she was no longer in his recess group, which had confused him, and he wondered what happened to her. He had never found out.
In second grade, she wasn’t in his class or his recess, but he saw her in the hallway every now and again.
When third grade rolled around, she was in his class again. When they were assigned seats together, he would watch her draw on any paper she could find. She drew almost anything, and you could always tell what it was. One day he told her that she was good at drawing, and she told him he was not. But they still sat at the same table, and sometimes she’d give him her drawings when she was done. That was also the year she had changed her name from Chrissy to Christie. He talked to her almost every day, and he had considered her his best friend that year.
Fourth grade had been a bad year for their friendship. One day, he had been mad at his dad and had slammed open his locker and hit Christie in the face. Her head was bleeding, but she didn’t cry at first. She just looked at him in disbelief, then she cried. The teacher had taken her to the office, and she had been gone the rest of the day. When she had come back to school, she had worn a Band-Aid on her head for a week. After the Band-Aid had come off, he could still see the cut. He had scarred her. He had given her a card and tried to say hi to her every day, but that didn’t alleviate his guilt about hurting her.
Sucking in a breath, Chris realized that the scar on her forehead wasn’t from her sister; it was from him. He had scarred her for life.
In fifth grade, he said hi to her every day, and some days, she returned the greeting. He had almost asked her to a dance that year but had chickened out. She would never say yes to someone like him. Their lockers had been together again, and he accidentally hit her in the head with his locker fifteen times, but she was kind of short, and never once did he make her bleed.
Sixth grade meant a new school, and he called her Christie like everyone else, no special nickname anymore. He started football and loved it. Again, he almost asked her to a dance, but he overheard her telling her friend she never went to dances, so he didn’t. She was one of the few to give out valentines, his said Christopher, which was not on the list, so she had made it special for him. He accidentally hit her in the head with his locker twelve times that year because she was very small still.
In seventh grade, he couldn’t remember hitting her with his locker door at all, which was a bonus, but they shared none of the same classes that year. When she came back from summer vacation, she had short hair. It was cute but different. That was the year girls started to notice him, but not Christie. He received his last valentine from her that year, though he didn’t hand out any. It had a bunny she had drawn on it. He had kept it for years.
When eighth grade came, he had girls chasing him, so he dated a few of them over the year. He still said hi to her whenever she said hi to him. It was the same until junior year, when they shared an empty locker, using it to store their coats. He smelled her perfume every time he put his coat on. Sometimes he worried that the guys would notice, but mostly he liked smelling her when he wore the jacket.
Senior year, that’s when he really got to know Christie Lovely. In science class, she was snarky and admitted that science wasn’t her thing. That year she finally started going to parties and never cared what others thought of her. She was who she was, and if you don’t like her, too bad. She was far braver than he was.
When he and his girlfriend broke up, he almost asked her out in science class but didn’t. He wasn’t her type. Not that he saw her dating anyone, but a brilliant artist wouldn’t have any interest in a jock.
Then came the party right before graduation. She had asked him to dance. He decided to say “screw you” to his friends and all their snide remarks and danced with her. He had always wanted to dance with her. In his arms, she was as small as he had always thought she would be, small and perfect. She had rested her head on his shoulder, and it was like they were alone. He had even gotten up the nerve to kiss her. When the song ended, his friends dragged him away laughing.
Later he had hid out from the guys in a bedroom upstairs because they wouldn’t leave him alone about dancing with Christie. They all thought that he had done it as a joke on her because they couldn’t see how he would be interested in her. After a while, he decided it was time to leave the party, but the moment he stepped out the door, he found her in the hallway, looking as lost and alone as he felt. Pulling her into that room had been as natural as dancing with her. Then he had kissed her and more, way more. Sex with Christie had been different then with girlfriend, Savannah, but it took years for him to realize why. It took until he found Agatha to know why. With Agatha, it wasn’t about him feeling good; it was about making her feel good. His orgasm took second place to hers for the first time in his life.
After that night, all he could think about was dating Christie. He had even planned their first date. He’d take her for pizza and a walk along the river maybe that next Monday night. Without having her phone number, he had no way to contact her until school on Monday.
But on Monday, he had been confronted by his friends the moment he had gotten to school, and he had messed up. When they demanded to know what had happened, he had played off their night together as nothing but sex. But that had just been for the guys; they didn’t need to know how special she was.
When Jason had laughed and said Christie was behind him, his heart sank. He knew he had never messed up so much. Turning to see her face, Chris knew his words had hurt her as she was pale and nearly in tears. His eyes went to the scar still on her forehead, and his heart twisted at how his words and actions have caused her pain.
Before he could say anything, she turned and left the school. She never came back, skipping the last week and graduation, where they would have sat side-by-side as they had since kindergarten. Without her, the day had been gloomy and lifeless. Or maybe that was because of the whiskey he had been drinking since that morning.
He hadn’t seen her again until that party when he knew it was her. He had watched her serving food for an hour before he realized who she was. But he had waited until he was too drunk to do anything but fuck her. He didn’t even know if he said he was sorry that night.
Now he had blown it once again by not recognizing her. They had spent over a month together, yet he’d ignored every little clue. She had never asked him about himself; she had already known. That first day, she had been prickly and distant because she remembered him and everything he had done to her.
Chris wondered why she had changed her name. She must have always gone by her middle name in school. Picking up the moose book, he wondered why she had chosen to use the name she’d used in school for her books.
Since he had moved in across the street from her, he had been drawn to her like he never had with anyone else. Something in him knew her and knew he could love her. Knew he would love her, but now she was gone. This time she hadn’t kicked him out of her house; she had left him in it. This was her safe place, and he had hurt her so bad that she had left.
He had no idea how to convince her he had changed because it seemed he hadn’t. Every time they were together, he had hurt her a little more. And this time, what he had done was unforgivable.
