Somebody Save Me

Chapter 2

Okay, so I've discovered something about treadmills. Something important. Something I wish someone had told me. You know, someone that works out, I mean. And that is that you should not use them while crying. The combination of having blurry-vision and wiping your runny nose somehow makes you run a little off to the side of the mat you're supposed to run on, a mat that's constantly moving underneath you. And by running to the side of it, you can trip.

And fall.

I sit, rubbing my shins with my hand, glad, actually, for an excuse not to work out anymore. Tad keeps looking over at me, mouthing "are you OK?" And I just nod and smile. He keeps running, turning the volume on his ipod up higher.

As I look around, I see that no one else is crying. Everyone else at the gym seems to have gotten the memo about how it's bad for you and can hurt you. I'm not even sure why I was crying. Why I've been crying pretty much since Cooper walked out the door. At first, I was just frustrated with everything. I mean, I want to be home. I want to be in the constant habit of locking Cooper's door. But at the same time… I want to be with Cooper! I want him to want me. I'm sorry, but it's hard to live with someone that you feel so strongly for! And here I am, not sleeping home, now in a relationship with a gorgeous guy that can run normally on a treadmill, and Cooper doesn't seem to care.

I'd hoped when he saw me there, rubbing Lucy all over, that he'd tell me how much he missed me, that the house was just awful and quiet and boring without me, and that he was beyond jealous of the man I was dating and wanted nothing more than for us to be together forever. And that's when he was supposed to kiss me. Deeply. Is that so much to ask for?

He wasn't supposed to sit there looking at me, saying barely a word and then lecture me about locks. I'm sorry, but that's just not romantic! And it's not very telling either. Of his feelings, I mean.

My little fantasy didn't come true, and I cried. Believe me, no one was as surprised about it as me. When I realized my mom left with all my money, I didn't cry. When I walked in on my fiancée cheating on me with the hot new pop sensation who was basically everything I'm not (or more appropriately, everything I'm not anymore), I didn't cry. So… why the waterworks now?

I managed to get myself under control for when I saw Tad. I just didn't talk much on the way to Fitness World. And that was fine because he had a lot to say on our walk there. I'd managed to stop my eyes from being all red and blotchy, so he had no idea. And that just made me sadder because I knew – I KNEW – that Cooper would've noticed that something about me was off. He sensed it in the hallway before the conversation went so totally wrong. He's just in sync with me in such a comforting, wonderful way. A way that my boyfriend is not. And that's just depressing.

I thought I got all the tears out of my system, though. Until the treadmill. I was just running, minding my own business. But I got bored. Who wouldn't get bored watching the seconds tick by while you stomp stomp stomp your feet, running but not actually MOVING, the scenery with every step staying the exact same? I mean, it's so boring! So to stop the torture, I tried to think about something that would get my mind off the whole running-while-standing-still boredom. And that something ended up being Cooper. My mistake.

When I'd said "our door", he'd looked like he thought of his place, his door, his locks as anything but ours. He'd said "right" with so much doubt, it'd just seemed like he didn't think I lived there anymore. I started thinking about how he'd probably ask me to leave soon. Me and my dad. Hell's Kitchen, here we come! That thought – on top of the ones about Cooper kicking me out – spurred a thought about food. I didn't want to run on a treadmill. I wanted a sandwich. From Joe's Dairy. A mouth orgasm – since I wasn't having the real thing these days. And there you have it. The state of my mind right up to my little treadmill crying jag.

"How're you doing?" Tad asks, wiping his forehead with a towel as he walks up to me, his ipod turned off now. "That looked bad back there. I'd have come over, but I had just gotten up to eight minute miles. It wouldn't have been good to stop."

"I understand," I say. Even though I don't. To me, stopping running is always a good thing. Eight minute miles be damned.

"So you're okay? You looked really upset about it. The fall, I mean."

"I'm not sure why I cried about it," I say apologetically. I'd managed to make him think my tears were a reaction to the fall, instead of the reason for it. "I mean, it's not the first time I've fallen on my face in a public place."

"Yeah, I remember when you fell at the Mall of America performance of 2000," he says. "That was bad. But like always, you got up!"

I can't remember telling Tad about that. He must have Googled me when we first met, I realize.

"So, let's hit the pool next," he says. "That won't hurt your shins, even if they're a little sore right now." He smiles at my hesitation. "Get your suit on and I'll meet you in the water."

I stand in the Ladies Room staring at my bathing suit, scary piece of ugly material it is. I bought it when I joined the gym, thinking a little light swimming might be fun. This was before I met the treadmills and other death vehicles. It's just a cheap, dark green one-piece. My bathing suit, I mean. I take my time putting it on, and then check my reflection out when I'm dressed. I can't believe I'm about to let Tad see my like this, skin hanging out under my arms, material pulling tightly – and unattractively – at the bikini line.

I'm thinking all of these deep thoughts when it happens. Someone screams. I've heard screams like this before. In the past. At Fischer Hall. Right after…

I stand frozen for a moment, my heart drumming fast against my ribs.

The dressing room leads straight to the pool. My destination. Where my boyfriend is swimming laps already. Where someone's screaming bloody murder!

I bolt, throwing open the door, running out into the pool area. I see Tad, sitting over the lifeless form of a young man. A woman is standing a little ways away, shaking. She must have been the one who screamed. Tad looks at me, looking completely shaken.

"I tried to save him, Heather." He looks back at the body. "He was drowning. I tried to save him."

I wrap my arms around myself, beginning to shake. I can't see any more dead bodies in my life. I really can't. It's just too awful. But despite my feelings of remorse, sadness and fear, I can't help thinking one thing as I look at the scene before me.

Great. I've joined Death Gym.

I go home that night. I tell Tad that Lucy needs me. And that's not a complete lie. She does need me. A lot. And I need her. And on the night I've seen a dead body, I also need my bed. My dad. My home. I need to know that Cooper's downstairs, even if he does hate me right now. I just… I need to feel safe. Every other time I've been around death, I've gone to Cooper's brownstone at night, and felt safe at night knowing he was downstairs. I need that tonight.

I walk through the front door, thankful Cooper didn't change the locks on me yet. I close the door quietly and sneak into my dad's room. I'm not sure why, but I just don't want Cooper to hear me. If he knows I'm home, he might do it. Kick me out, I mean. Ask me to leave. I'll have to thank him for everything he's done for me, of course. And that'll just be hard, what with all the sobbing I'd undoubtedly be doing when I say it.

"Heather! Hi!" my dad says, putting his flute down. "You've come home!"

I smile. "Yeah. Figured I'd see if things are still the same here." I look at his flute. "I see they are."

He puts the instrument down and comes to take my hand. "We've missed you around here," he says. He lowers his voice and leans in close. "Cooper especially."

I know my dad's just trying to be nice, knowing about my infatuation with Cooper and all, but I still feel butterflies at the possibility that this could be true. "Why do you say that?" I ask.

"He's been moping around. Biting people's heads off for no reason." So it's not just me. "He's darn near impossible to work with right now. It's just obvious," he finishes, shrugging.

"Yes, moping around and being impossible equals missing me," I say rolling my eyes. My dad's obviously never forgotten to lock Cooper's door. Still, it's nice of my dad to say all this. I squeeze his hand back, hoping he understands my appreciation. "Is, um… is he here?"

"Yes," he says. "In his room, working."

"Great," I say. "He won't even know I'm here." Who wants to rush eviction?

After my dad lectures me about how I always avoid issues instead of dealing with them – which is totally true, but not what I need to hear right now – he kisses me goodnight and tells me to sleep home more, so he and I can continue to develop our father and daughter relationship.

I close the door to my room upstairs, as my eyes, once again, fill with tears. What is wrong with me? I'm really not a crier! I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, as I think about flowers and daisies and Lucy, all things which make me happy. I seem to have diverted the tears. For once. God, I'm such a baby these days.

I hear a quiet knock on my door.

"Come in," I say, sitting up, wiping my eyes, figuring it's my dad.

The door opens and Cooper walks in, two forks and a Styrofoam to-go container in his hands. He smiles sheepishly.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." I'm completely unable to hide my surprise at seeing him in my room. I imagine him in here all the time, but he so rarely actually comes in! And… I didn't think he'd heard me come in. I was so quiet! "Did my dad tell you I was here?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the doorway, thinking of my traitorous father.

"No," he says. "I… no, he didn't."

We just sit there, looking at each other, as I wonder what's happened to us? We've never NOT had something to say to each other. But it's like everything we have to say to each other right now is stuff we can't actually say. I can't tell him I love him. You know? And he can't seem to be able to say "get out of my house" either, which is a small comfort.

"I got some takeout earlier. Bodega chicken," he explains, walking further into the room. "I didn't have a chance to eat it before, and thought… you might want some."

I just stare at him, shocked. Was he trying to soften me up for the blow? Bodega fried chicken – one of my favorite meals of all time – before the verbal eviction notice? "But it's your dinner" I say lamely.

He sits down, resting his back against my bed. "I'll share. I'd have gotten two, I just wasn't sure you were – "

"—right," I say. "About that… "

"Heather, you don't owe me an explanation," he says quickly, shaking his head. He looks at me.

"Yes, I do. You're right."

"No, I was being stupid before. I'm not sure why I got upset," he says, looking down. He hands me a fork. I take it happily as he opens the container. "But I am sorry."

"Sorry?" I ask. "You're not here to…" I trail off. Why give him ideas? I take a bite of the bodega chicken and close my eyes, savoring the taste. How I'd missed this stuff, since I'd begun dating Tad.

"Here to what?"

Damn. He's so quick with the uptake. "Ask me to move out," I stammer, not making eye contact.

"Ask you to… because we had one disagreement?" he asks, his eyebrows disappearing under all that wavy dark hair. He's clearly shocked. "If you can even call it that," he continues. "We didn't really even talk about anything, let alone disagree. Why would you think I would do that? Ask you to move out."

He's looking into my eyes, his blue-eyed gaze just burning into mine.

"I don't know," I say quietly, trying to will the tears to stay far away. I could feel them creeping up, wanting to come out and play. I was sniffling again. Just great. "I just thought maybe I was starting to annoy you. I thought maybe, being that things are a little different now, you were ready to move on from… from this."

"Heather," he says – sounding delightfully upset that I'd even be thinking this – staring at the bodega chicken before looking once again at me with those piercingly beautiful eyes.

"No, Coop, I would understand. I've been waiting for it since I moved in! I knew this whole situation was too good to be true, and that someday you'd have to tell me to get out; move on; get my own life and my own home."

"This is your home," he says, sounding mad that I wouldn't know that already. "And… not everyone leaves, you know." His expression softens a little. "I know your mom left. And the way she did it was just…" He shakes his head, looking at me like I'd lived through some kind of major tragedy. "And Jordan was the only person you had left that you could trust. And he cheated on you," he says with some disgust. "Believe me; I can understand why you'd have trouble trusting. But I thought… well, I thought you could trust me." He looks at me very seriously and lets out a long, low breath. "Heather, I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not about to ask you to leave, either."

"Not yet. But someday you will," I say softly. Soothingly. He looks so tortured. Why does he look so tortured? I guess because this has been nice. The whole living situation. The idea it'll end upsets me to no end. Is it so hard to believe that he hasn't been enjoying it just as much as I have? That thinking of the end isn't just as awful for him? "I've been dreading it since I moved in. It's inevitable. Things can't stay like this forever," I say miserably. I take another bite of heaven and look at him. "I wish they could, though," I say quietly. "I love living here, with you."

"Me too," he says quietly. Quickly. Genuinely. He looks at me and smiles, showing me that he means that. He must know how insecure I can be. And I feel like my heart's soaring. Honestly. I didn't think people really felt like this. But here I am, heart soaring, feeling totally and completely… content. He takes another bite of the chicken.

"So," he says, his voice markedly lighter. "How's the new relationship? Things seem to be going well." He stares ahead as he asks me this, or at the dish of chicken. He doesn't look at me.

"Tad's, um… good." I say. Being reminded of Tad, though, I automatically put my fork down, feeling guilty for having eaten nearly half of Cooper's dinner. I'd been feeling so good just now, talking with Cooper. It felt like it used to be. Before… well, before Tad. And now suddenly, I feel overcome with negative feelings.

"Don't you want anymore?" Cooper asks, looking at my fork, resting inside the Styrofoam container. "It's your favorite."

"I shouldn't," I say.

He looks really upset at that. Is he offended? I mean, it's not like he cooked it. But he definitely looks really upset. To say the least. He looks like he wants to hit something.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"It's just… " He runs a hand through his dark hair, getting control of his feelings. I wish I could do that. Run my hands through his hair, that is. "If this guy's making you feel like you have to change… "

Then he stops. He sighs. He says nothing. How like him.

"Yes?" I urge him. Maybe he'll tell me he likes me just the way I am, like Mark Darcy told Bridget Jones in the movie version.

He sighs and looks at me. "Heather, don't change for some guy. That's not you. And it's not right."

"So what is me, then?" I ask. "Eating until I can't see straight and going up a size in jeans every six months?"

He shakes his head, fighting the urge to smile. "No. You just… you don't hide your love of a sandwich from Joe's or bodega fried chicken. You don't go to the gym. God, if you ever got on a treadmill, you'd probably fall off of it."

I look at him suspiciously. Had he spied on me and witnessed my little treadmill debacle? No, no. If he had, he would grin in that way - that completely sexy, knowing way that he has. Still. What a thing to say! If I hadn't been crying over him,I'd never have fallen off!

"You savor your favorite foods, yes," he continues, unaware of my internal thought process. "But you walk a couple city blocks when you're trying to save the children of Death Dorm, or get across town, when you've forgotten cab or subway fare. I just… I hate the thought that you'd change it. Any of it. You're perfectly fine. And if this guy doesn't make you feel that way, then maybe you shouldn't be with him," he finally spits out, his voice almost low as a whisper. Again, he's not looking at me.

I nod anyway. It's all I can do. I mean… I don't know what to make of this conversation. Do I say "I could date you instead"? He's kind of just told me he likes me as I am. Very Mark Darcy-like. Only, you know, without the romantic kiss in the snowy streets of London. And because he's Cooper, he did sort of manage to make the whole thing - sweet as it was - sound like a lecture of the self-help variety. You know, "love yourself" and all of that.

Before I can say anything at all, though, my cell phone rings. I grab it and look at the screen. I don't recognize the number. I don't even recognize the area code.

I can tell, though, that Cooper's not enjoying listening to Justin bring sexy back - my new ringtone, if his look of total exasperation is any indication, so I push the talk button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Heather," a deep, male voice says. "Just so you know, what happened at the pool today wasn't an accident."

My blood runs cold and I stare ahead. "Who's this?" I ask, trying to sound casual. I really don't want Cooper to know anything's wrong.

"I'm not telling," the voice says. "But I will tell you one thing."

I wait.

"You're next."