3. Meet Cracker Jack

Those days proceeding the dinner with the Mercer brothers were long. I would walk to and from work, arriving back at home tired as anything. I was only 21 and I already felt I should be 80. I lived a sad life for a 21 year old—going to work everyday and coming home to an empty house, eating dinner alone, watching TV and then going to bed. I had no life, no love, no nothing—except the kindness of the Mercer brothers. After that dinner with them, they invited me over again the next night, and then I invited them over the night after that. They made my life much more interesting, and they gave me company in the lonely city where I had no other friends. I still hadn't met Jack, but he was supposedly being released from the hospital the fourth day after the shooting.

On that fourth day, all I could think about was if I would finally get to meet him. I went to work and couldn't get my pathetic self to think of anything but him. I couldn't even really remember what he looked like. All I had were distorted memories of a young man who had just been shot and was screaming in agony. He was a mystery to me, and I think that was what made me so interested.

When that fourth day ended inevitably, I felt a small part of me crush under the hope I had felt all day long.

"Oh well. Hope for the best, expect the worst, I guess," I muttered to myself as I turned out my nightstand light and went to sleep.

"Jack, you gotta go over there and thank her for saving your life," Jeremiah said to Jack as he sat restlessly on the couch.

"Is she home?" Jack asked, his voice deep and slightly scratchy from being in the hospital.

"Of course she is, fairy! It's Saturday!" Bobby exclaimed with a laugh. Angel and Jeremiah chuckled with him, glad that their younger brother was home.

"Alright Bobby. I figured that. I just wasn't sure if she was out like doing other things aside from work," Jack replied with a grin as he got off the couch.

I was sitting at my lap top checking my email when the doorbell rang. I was up late the night before due to my anticipation, and was pretty upset with myself for feeling so tired at just 4:45 in the afternoon. I got out of my chair and peeped through the hole. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of the unfamiliar face. I opened the door and was saved.

"Um hi, I'm Jack, and I just wanted to thank you for saving my life," he said immediately, looking down at the ground.

"Hey, I know I'm short, but I'm not all the way down there," I laughed. He looked up slowly and when his eyes met mine we both shared a chuckle. "Come on in, Jack,"

He walked in and took a seat on the couch.

"So how are you feeling?" I asked finally. "I'm Ange, by the way,"

"I'm feeling better than I was," he said slowly, looking back up at me with a smile, then looking away once our eyes met again.

"That's good," I replied, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

"Yeah. Well, my brother's are going out tonight—they have some 'unfinished business' they gotta attend to, so I was wondering if I could make you dinner," Jack said, completely avoid all eye contact during his invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love some dinner," I replied, searching for his blue eyes with mine. He ran a strong hand through his messy light brown hair and finally turned a quick glance over to me. He stood up suddenly.

"How about you come over around 6:30?" He asked, not looking at me.

"Sounds good," I said, standing up. "I'll see you then,"

After he left, it occurred to me just how awkward that whole situation had been. I sort of liked his awkwardness. This was going to be a fun evening.

I stood outside the Mercer household with a bottle of zinfandel. I hoped he liked zinfandel. When he came to the door he was smiling, but then his smile quickly turned to a look of uneasiness. As he let me into the house he took my coat.

"I didn't know you were going to be all dressed up! You look so nice and I looked like shit," he said, walking with me back into the kitchen.

"Don't worry about it. I always dress like this when I get invited to dinner," I replied. "I brought zinfandel. Do you like zinfandel? If you don't I have some merlot at home, or chardonnay? Beer is fine too if you don't like wine, I just felt like I should bring something, you know? My parents always taught me to bring something if I get invited somewhere…"

He laughed at my rambling. "It's great, don't worry about it. This is a dinner for you—me thanking you. You didn't have to bring anything," he said, looking me in the eyes. I smiled and put the bottle down on the table.

"It's to see a man that cooks," I laughed, watching him close the oven and removing his oven mitts. He chuckled.

"Have a seat—it's just about ready," He said, gesturing to the table. I watched Jack remove the chicken from the oven. I was pretty jacked! I also really enjoyed the tattoos that decorated his nice arms. I caught myself staring. I quickly diverted my eyes to a random wall in the house as he placed the chicken on the table.

"You can help yourself," he said as he set it down.

"No way! I'm waiting for you," I replied with a smile. He smiled back and went into the kitchen, retrieving mashed potatoes, salad and a cork screw for the wine. We ate dinner in mostly silence, except for the obvious questions: "how is it?" "More wine?" "Have some more chicken," etc.

I helped him clean up the kitchen after we ate and then joined him in the living room on the sofa.

"So, you're not from Detroit?" He asked.

"No, I'm from Boston. I went to college in North Carolina and now I'm back in Boston for grad school. My internship brought me to Detroit," I replied, sipping on some more wine.

"How did you know my mother?"

"She invited me over for tea on Tuesdays and Thursday. She was one of the only people here who really welcomed me to Detroit,"

"Sounds like mom," he chuckled, taking a swig of beer.

"She was a fabulous lady," I replied with a tipsy smile.

"What's your major at school?" He asked, a bit tipsy himself.

"Music, with a double minor in psychology and physics," I laughed at the ridiculousness of my major.

"Physics and music! What kind of internship are you doing here with that!" he laughed.

I laughed with him. "Well, I'm going to be a music therapist, which takes care of the music major and psych minor," I replied, drinking more wine.

"And the physics?" he chuckled.

"It's physics with a concentration in astronomy, just because I like it and it interested me," I laughed.

"Oh jeez," he grinned. "I'd give anything to be a musician,"

"You can do anything if you really want to," I said finally.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind when I'm a starving artist," he said sarcastically with a smile.

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with being a starving artist!" I smiled back. There was a brief silence.

"I don't want it to seem like I'm kicking you out or anything, but they're gonna be back soon and you probably wouldn't wanna be here when they get back," Jack said, standing up.

"Oh I understand," I replied, standing up as well.

"I had fun tonight," he said.

"Me too. Thank you again," I said as I stepped out the door.

"Yeah, well, have a nice night, and internship and all," he said. He was about to close the door when he suddenly paused. It was as if Evelyn had appeared before him: "Jack! That is a nice girl! She'd be good for you, Jackie. And don't you dare let her walk home alone!"

"Let me walk you home. Detroit's not a safe place," he said finally.