Deeply Personal

Chapter 23

Jessica

Jessica ran her errands, stopping at a paint store to check on an order, then getting on the phone with a supplier regarding bamboo flooring. And then, before she knew it, it was time to head to the restaurant to meet Paul.

The Palm was an older downtown restaurant that featured caricatures of famous faces on the walls, and the food was exceptional. As she parked in a parking garage and traipsed down the sidewalk, wishing she had on something a bit more eye-catching than her business casual outfit, the city lights and the tall buildings around her gave everything a comforting, wonderland feel. The famous Batman building, with its twin towers—actually an AT&T headquarters—rose into the darkening blue sky, looming before her. She was afraid to admit it, but she was giddy about meeting Paul for dinner, about being with him, just the two of them, staring into those marvelous eyes of his, hearing the sound of his—

Would you cut that crap out?

She had to get herself under control. Maybe this was all one insanely egregious mistake, all of it, meeting him, one of those big bad blunders you regret the rest of your life. Like that fateful day you attended a costume party and you got all dressed up as Princess Fairy Dust, with glitter-sparkles all over your body and everything, but then when you got there, you discovered it was actually a very formal occasion and everyone was wearing dresses and suits and drinking white wine from flutes, and they all turned your way when you entered and . . . It had been hard to live that one down during her junior year in college, for sure.

Paul. He was standing at the front, waiting for her, and a great big grin broke out on his face as soon as he spotted her. She found herself matching his grin. The hostess led them to the back of the restaurant—a quiet table for two. They were immediately approached by a tall, good-looking waiter, who asked if they wanted to order from the bar.

“I’ll have a glass of Malbec,” Jessica said.

“The same,” Paul said, not taking his eyes off her.

Jessica tried to get comfortable but her mouth grew dry and she drank a big gulp of the water that had been provided by the waiter, along with the wine. There. Better. She took a few deep breaths and looked around the restaurant.

The roar of conversations bubbled around them, and for a while, they said nothing as they studied their menus, and Jessica was content to soak everything in. The Malbec tripped over her tongue, calming her.

Jessica ordered the seared sea bass, Paul, the Sicilian-style salmon.

The food came, salads, and then the main courses, and they talked about everything: a new landscape artist Jessica had discovered, a new novel by a South African writer that Paul had discovered, which reminded him so much of John Banville. Jessica’s latest exercise routine which consisted of walking two miles when possible. The London trainers who were coming and who Paul couldn’t wait to impress with his new digs. What it was like for Paul when he took part in the Olympics . . . and on and on. Finally, their conversation took a serious turn.

“So, do you think you’ll ever date again after your last relationship? I mean I know it’s hard getting over the hurt,” Paul said.

Jessica finished off her sea bass. She really didn’t know what to say.

“I haven’t made some sort of rule. It’s just that for now, I’m feeling like it’s time for me to be on my own. See?”

“Ah, yes. I do,” Paul said. “I guess.”

Suddenly, just as she took a bite of bread, her heart gave that little riff. Then another. She set her fork down. Another riff came again and then a long, slow delay that had her pressing one hand to her chest and the other to her throat. She closed her eyes as she tried fight off the sensation of light-headedness. The strange heartbeats were startling and uncomfortable, creating a feeling in her chest that made it seem as if her heart had turned into a fist. She’d gone back to the doctor and he’d changed her medication, adding a second medicine for blood circulation. But now, it didn’t seem like it was helping her at all.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, staring at her.

Jessica’s heart thudded now, hard and deep. “My heart,” she said.

“Is there anything I can do?” Paul asked.

She shook her head and took a long gulp of water. Then she sat there for a minute. Another riff or two, then finally, the beats returned to normal.

“Better,” she said. “Damn!”

“What did the doctor say?” Paul asked.

“He gave me a drug and said diet and exercise. He said if it got worse, there was a surgery he could do. But he definitely said try diet and exercise first. He didn’t seem that worried.”

“You’re worried about it though,” Paul said, clearly noticing everything about her.

Chagrined, she nodded. Over the last weeks, she’d been busy dreading the thought of surgery, being wheeled into recovery . . . What would happen to her business while she was in the hospital?

Five minutes later, she forgot all about the strange beats and was laughing at something Paul said, feeling completely and ridiculously fine. But she didn’t have a second glass of wine. Why even chance it?

They shared a piece of key lime pie for dessert. After Paul paid, he asked, “Want to take a walk? It’s always good to move around after a big meal.”

Jessica didn’t even hesitate. “I could stand to burn a few calories.”

“So could I.”

“You?” She laughed. “You’re so fit. No way.”

Strolling in the cold night air, they passed the Bridgestone arena and several bars and other restaurants. As usual for downtown Nashville, tourists were everywhere, cramming the streets, laughing and having a good time, excited to be in Music City.

A few minutes later, they sat down on a bench overlooking the river, which was sparkling with the reflections of the city’s lights. Paul pointed up at the night sky. It was clear tonight, and the stars were bright and twinkling, clearly easy to see.

“Do you know much about stars?” he asked.

“Not much,” she said. “But I bet you do.”

Paul’s eyes were lit with a kind of curious light that shone straight to her heart, as if he was trying to see the depths of her feelings within. An emotional flashlight.

“My dad was the one who got me interested,” Paul said. “We’d look out at the stars together. He knew a lot about them, kind of like an amateur astronomer. Actually, he knew a lot about a lot of things.” Paul looked down at his hands and twisted them together. “He was a great guy, really. Brilliant. And a great athlete. He just went down the wrong path. Got himself messed up.” He turned toward her. “He died when I was eleven.” Paul swallowed, then continued. “After my mother died, it was such a blow to him. He went down the wrong road, lost his job, got another job, lost that one, started drinking and doing drugs and well, that was that. I found him in the bathroom. His heart had stopped. I called 911.”

“Oh, Paul. I’m so sorry.” Jessica touched his arm. “I really am.”

They plunged into silence.

“And so I went to live with my grandparents in Tampa,” he said finally. “They were great. Really took care of me.” He looked off into the distance.

“And they’re still around?”

“Absolutely. They’re definitely a pair, those two.” He smiled. “Anyway, want to see Cassiopeia?” he asked, glancing down at her through his dark eyelashes.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of that one. But I wouldn’t know where to look for it.” She peered up into the sky. Twinkling diamonds looked down at her.

“Cassiopeia’s one of the oldest constellations,” Paul said, his voice ringing with enthusiasm. “It’s not that hard to see it, really.” He pointed upward. “You look for ‘W’ in the north sky, though sometimes it can be upside down, forming an ‘M.’ See? There?” Jessica followed his directions. “The name’s from Greek mythology. It’s supposed to be the outline of the seated queen of Ethiopia.”

Jessica scanned the sky, and a few seconds later, she said, “I see it, yes!” She squeezed his arm. “It’s that W, right?”

“Yep.”

“Yes. I see it for sure! I never knew,” she said.

“Now, the North Star,” Paul went on, giving her a boyish grin, “is found by locating the Big Dipper, which is also called Ursa Major. The two stars at the edge of the Big Dipper point toward the North Star, Polaris. See?”

Jessica’s head drew closer toward his as she looked into the sky. He took her hand and pointed it in the right direction. Just the feel of it, his fingertips tracing hers, made her entire body grow weak.

“If you’re ever lost, now you can find the North Star.” He beamed at her.

Jessica looked up again, marveling at the vastness of it all, the immensity of life and love, everything.

The universe, so vast, was as incomprehensible as, well . . . the notion of love itself, an inner universe all its own.

When you picked love apart, though—when you got love down to its essential elements—what did you find? Emotional quarks?

Much of her life she’d felt lost. She realized: that was why she’d scrambled to achieve as much as she could, and to love a man so completely. To give all she had so that the feeling of being lost could be pushed into the background. If only the answer was in looking up for that North Star. Was her North Star sitting next to her?

She touched Paul’s shoulder, so strong, and leaned against his strength.

“Were you always this fit?” she asked. “Even as a boy?”

He laughed at that. “Take a look.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled until he found what he was looking for. He showed her a picture of a chubby boy standing on a pier next to a well-built, handsome man who was smiling at the camera. Blue waters stretched out in the distance.

“That was me at nine years old, with my dad in Florida.” Paul stroked a finger over the screen, gazing at the picture. “I’ve kept these photos in my phone to pull up when I want to.”

“Ah, you’re so cute, Paul.” Jessica’s heart melted at the sight. Little Paul.

“And there’s a picture of my granddad when he was younger. Pops turned out to be the father I didn’t have. When I got older, he helped train me and brought me up through the ranks. He was a lifter himself in his younger days. After I won the silver, I got a few offers—sponsorships and the like, though most of that goes to the gold medalists. Still, I did a couple of commercials and struck it rich. But that kind of life wasn’t for me.”

“And so?”

“So, I wanted to give back. I opened up a gym of my own and started training people.”

“That’s great, Paul,” Jessica said. “I’ve taken on several interns and trained them as well. It’s a good feeling when you help bring others up.”

He showed her another picture. “That’s me at thirteen years old. I keep this because it reminds me of where I came from. Quite a difference, huh?” The boy in the photo was definitely a younger Paul Brady, but he didn’t look healthy or happy at all. Lines of sadness crossed his expression, his lips were pinched together in a frown, and there was a faraway look in his eyes that seemed to emanate from a despair deep within him. “I was a mess. I felt so alone, depressed. I hardly ever smiled. Really shy, too. I’d lost both parents. I was really disturbed.”

He kept scrolling. “And there’s me at fifteen. I keep this on hand to remind me.” In this photo, Paul was sitting on a lounge chair on a white-sand beach. He held a soda can in one hand and a pair of sunglasses in the other. But there was still more than a hint of misery behind those eyes. The boy looked way out of shape—but more importantly, he seemed tired and afraid.

“What turned you around?” Jessica asked.

“Ah. The big question.” He grinned and raised a finger in the air.

“It was the day I stumbled into the gym at the University of South Florida. I was sixteen years old. I was going to meet a friend there. I didn’t have anything else to do. I basically just wandered around, feeling sorry for myself. Tony had some kind of free pass to get in from his high school, and he asked me to join him. I knew nothing about physical fitness then and was a timid kid with lots of emotional problems. I mean really shy.” Paul took a breath. “But when I went inside that gym and saw all those bodybuilders, lifting weights the way they did and moving with so much confidence, I was hooked. I wanted to be just like them. I wanted—no, needed —to feel that kind of superpower myself.”

“Superpower, huh?” she said. “It’s like you were changing your identity, who you were, through lifting weights and building muscle. Changing your entire personality. I can see that.”

“But I must say, changing on the inside—my interior design, as you might call it . . .” He smiled at her, and she smiled back in acknowledgement. “That was the hardest part of all—the real heavy lifting. That took years.”

Jessica furrowed her brow. Maybe changing on the inside was what made life so challenging. Anyone could create a new exterior look, build muscle, change their hair color, amplify their breasts, and lose weight. But the inner emotional heart-and-head life—changing that, that was the biggie.

“My grandfather started training me and encouraging me, and the next thing I knew, I was lifting every day, working out like a madman. It was like shedding emotional skin. I needed healing on the inside, and it was working on my physical body that seemed to do it, at least most of it. Running, lifting, exercising. I became a different person, transformed. I also started watching what I ate, and that helped a lot. And I saw a therapist who helped me overcome the pain that living without my parents had brought me.”

“You climbed a mountain, didn’t you?”

“Several mountains, I’m afraid. It was really—” Paul stopped talking and pointed at the sky. “Look! A shooting star! See it?”

Jessica looked up and gasped. A trail of yellow fell quickly away against the velvet darkness.

“Just small pieces of rock burning up in the atmosphere. But you know, some say,” Paul continued, putting an arm around her and staring into her eyes, her body responding with a warmth and happiness that spread throughout, “if you see a shooting star . . .”

“You’ll find love very soon?” Jessica filled in.

Paul nodded. Jessica couldn’t stop herself. Her heart pounded in her ears and her throat clamped shut.

Never trust a man who rants about the stars.

Patty Preston’s words.

“Paul, I-I . . .”

But she was at a loss for what to say. Her mind whirled as she leaned toward him. She didn’t stop. Their lips brushed, softly at first, then pressing harder against each other as their passion rose. Paul ran his fingers through her hair, and Jessica moaned, closing her eyes. He touched her neck, caressed her face.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it, then placed it against his face. Jessica welcomed this and let her hand run down the side of his cheek, stroking it softly as their lips angled together, tongues engaging, speaking their own language. Actual words were useless at this point. She felt like a shooting star herself, sparkling inside. Paul’s touch reached the length and breadth of her heart, which shivered with delight. She soaked up the moment. And then they kissed again, Jessica sinking into his touches.

Finally, they sat close together, staring up at the stars. People passed by, a siren blared in the distance and the night sounds of downtown traffic and country music blaring from nearby bars passed in and around them.

Jessica bit her lower lip. The moment she started being vulnerable with him would be the moment she’d cross that final line, sliding into brand new territory in which her heart would be left completely open. She just didn’t know if she was ready for that.

“So,” he said, turning to her and taking her hand, “is there any chance you might change your mind and consider dating? Someone like . . . well, me?”

Jessica let the word slip through her lips, unable to stop it. “Maybe.”