Made To Be Broken

Chapter Four

Jack leaned back on the couch, staring at the moving pictures on the TV set. It was one of those days when he felt down. He had been tired all day, hadn't been able to go to work and now it was almost four in the afternoon and he was still in his pajamas.

Coughing, he looked up at the clock above the TV, feeling useless for once. How was he supposed to earn a living like this? And more importantly, how was he ever going to have time to paint and draw?

As his eyes moved over the room, they locked in on the phone. That girl, Rose, why didn't she call? Jack smiled cynically. He hadn't dated much in his days.

Girls were usually frightened off by his I-might-die-tomorrow-thing. It wasn't as if life was a romantic novel, where they cared for him and could bear anything. They just said it would be too much.

Was Rose the same? Or was she married? Dating? In a serious relationship. Jack groaned, causing the temporarily ceased coughing to start up again.

She had seemed shocked by his revelation and she…she wouldn't call, would she? He tried to remember her lying there, in the hospital bed, her eyes tired. Hadn't they lit up a bit when he had come inside? He frowned. He had a feeling she had been lying about falling down the stairs and he had seen the man who had brought her in. He didn't seem like he had just found her and helped her to the hospital. He had seemed nervous…almost as if he was guilty of something.

Jack looked up into the ceiling, settling on the couch on his back once more, giving in to his symptoms. Rose probably knew the man. Was he responsible for putting her in the hospital? Jack's mind was spinning by now and not many minutes later, he had fallen asleep, her face still swimming before his eyes. Rose.

Rose practically ran out of the restaurant when her shift was over. Home! Home to my apartment, to my things, to nothing but me! Rose smiled at her somewhat childish thoughts as she hurried along the hot pavement.

Two days had passed now since she had left Cal for the second time. Time had been spent to finalize the divorce, she didn't want any of his things, so she had thought that it would be very easy to get out of the marriage.

She hadn't counted on Cal's stubbornness. While he wasn't contesting the divorce, he was pretending to be the betrayed husband and to Rose's surprise, he was trying to take some of her things. As if he couldn't buy them and better things for himself! No, he wanted hers. Her TV, her stereo even the necklace his mother had given her.

Rose grumbled at the thought of it all. Thankfully, her uncle - her father's brother - was a lawyer and he was managing the whole matter quite well. Hospital records, witnesses, everything would point in one direction. Cal had been abusing her. There wasn't a chance in hell Cal would get her things, Rose thought triumphantly.

As she strolled along, she noticed the hospital where she had met Jack for the first time. She frowned a bit. How could he be okay knowing he could die any time? She shook her head. That wasn't it. It was the idea of being sick all the time, of having to rely on the hospital to get the breath to stay alive. Suddenly she smiled funnily. That was what she had been doing, too. She had been in hospitals, seen doctors almost as long as she had stayed with Cal. Bumps, bruises, a broken rib. But in her case, it had been voluntarily. And now she was free. Jack wouldn't be free until he died.

That thought stung her like a knife cutting through her heart. Why did that upset her so? She didn't know Jack, hadn't known him. She had just talked to him a few times. She did have a feeling the had a sort of connection. She knew, almost for certain, that he hadn't believed her when she had said she had fallen down the stairs.

The note…the note with his phone number also stuck out in her memory. Maybe he didn't have that many friends? He was very handsome, very pleasant and if this had been high school, he probably would have been hanging with the cool crowd, but Rose wondered. He seemed lonely. I hope we can be friends. Call me. Why hadn't she called him? She sighed lightly, digging into her purse to find her keys. He was sweet and very good-looking, but she didn't feel ready to make new friends. She also had a feeling it would lead to more than just friends and she couldn't bear that. More pain and love would be let into her heart then. Only this time, the man would die and not hit her. Thoughtfully, she dropped her purse on the floor, removed her work sweater, walking through the small apartment to the bathroom, jumping in a cold shower to get rid of the smell of working and the unbearable heat that was tormenting everyone.

As she sat down in the living room to watch the news and to rewind the tape that she always used to tape her favorite soap when she was at work. Sure enough, she wasn't that interested in the storylines, but some characters seemed to intrigue her in a strange way and the rest, well, it was just fun to watch.

She rubbed her hair dry with a towel, loving the feeling of being clean and comfortable, not having to leave the apartment to go shopping or go to work…or go on a meaningless date with Cal. She shook her head at her own stupidity. How could she have thought he would be different now? She could have been killed because of her own silly belief that he might have changed, that she could still make her mother happy by staying with him.

News was over now, nothing new in the world. Only the same war, the same companies in trouble, the same kids outcast in school. Rose sighed. There was so many unpleasant things happening in the world that it made you wonder what it was all good for. Jack leaped into her mind once more. He seemed to love living. Of course you love it if you might be called to leave at any moment.

Rose glanced at the wilting flowers sitting quietly on the windowsill. The note was sitting equally quietly among them. Then, how come it was all screaming at Rose to call him. As a friend. Nothing more, she told herself firmly, tucking away a few damp locks behind her ear.

She walked up to the window, staring at the empty street, the house opposite to hers and the sun setting in the distance. Why shouldn't she call him?

Shakily - she had never been nervous when calling someone before, never in her life - picked up the receiver and dialed the number. Several signals went through before something happened.

A tired voice said one word and then it sounded like he had dropped the phone. Rose put her hand to her face, swallowing hard. What had she been thinking? Maybe he went to bed at eight or something because of his condition and now she had woken him up. She paced the room worriedly, asking if someone was there, hoping to hear his voice. Just as she had been about to hang up and try to find his address somewhere, calling someone, looking it up, she didn't know, the same voice returned.

"Yeah? It's Jack."

He sounded calm as ever, but tired, and maybe a bit annoyed at having to talk on the phone. Rose took a deep breath, sinking down on the couch once more.

"It's me…Rose, from the hospital," she said, trying to sound happy, ignoring what she had heard.

"Oh. Rose. Hi. I'm sorry…I dropped the phone, I…I had a rough day and I…fell asleep." He sounded almost embarrassed and she could have kicked herself for doing that to him.

"I was…just sitting here, thinking and then I…I wondered if I should call you…" She stopped, waiting for him to say something, hoping he thought she hadn't even noticed him dropping the phone, or at least that she was talking about things to make him forget.

Jack stared at the muted TV in surprise. He had fallen asleep and then been rudely awakened by the phone, had dropped it and almost passed out the floor and then…it turned out that it was Rose calling, not some stupid telemarketer.

What must she be thinking about him now? If she had wanted to call, she wanted to be friends…but after this, would she even want to talk? She did. She spoke softly, cautiously and he thought he heard some uncertainty behind it all.

"Did you want to call me?" he asked quietly, willing the coughing, the trouble breathing to go away. Not while he was talking to Rose, he begged, not now.

"Yes," she whispered and then laughed softly. "I couldn't seem to stop thinking about you. I'd love to…be friends…like you said on the note. I don't really have a lot of those. Good friends I mean and…I just felt like we could be good friends."

Jack smiled, but he felt the underlying anxiety. She wanted to be good friends. She didn't want to…do anything more. So, that man was her husband or something and she would rather stay with an abusive husband than fall in love with him. Calm down, Dawson, she hasn't said that it was her husband.

"I kind of…I think you knew that I was lying at the hospital. About the man and the stairs and everything."

"I thought something like that, yeah." Taking a deep breath, Rose went on.

"He is…was…is my soon-to-be ex-husband. And he pushed me down the stairs."

Jack's heart jumped and he clenched his jaw, without even being aware of how much it angered him to think that someone had hurt her.

"You're leaving him I hope?" he said calmly.

"Yes. I have my own place now, I was giving him a second chance. Didn't work out."

Jack smiled grimly.

"So…I'll…I'll let you go back to sleep and I…maybe we can meet some day? And talk?"

"I'd like that," Jack said softly.

Rose looked at the phone in her hand silently. Some day.

More coming soon!