Like they were in the high school hallway and he’d spotted her and now was smiling at her, coming over to say hello, with the promise of a relationship that had never had a chance to even get off the ground.
Only they were both in a grocery lane pushing carts, his with just a few more items than hers — was he a light eater, too? As Mark neared, Jordan regretted having piled her long black hair in a loose bun under an Indians baseball cap. For the first time in ten years, wearing no makeup made her feel self-conscious. And couldn’t she have thrown on something better than loose sweatpants and a Maroon 5 T-shirt?
Annoyed with herself for such girly thoughts, she felt her smile fade as Mark pulled almost even with her cart, coming the opposite direction. He was casually dressed, too — white sneakers, jeans, and a navy blue T-shirt with the letters CPD stenciled in gold across the chest, defined below as CLEVELAND POLICE DEPARTMENT.
Suddenly this didn’t feel like a happy accident.
“Jordan,” he said. “Hello.”
“Mark, isn’t it? Pryor?”
“Yes. High school. You haven’t changed.”
He had that much wrong.
“Nice to see you,” she said coolly, and began rolling off, but he reached out and stopped her cart. She frowned at him.
“Sorry,” he said, but his grip on the steel grillwork of the cart remained. “Couldn’t we talk for a minute? It’s been a long time. Ten years.”
“We’re blocking the aisle.”
He gestured. “Let’s go over to the coffee shop area, by the deli counter. And catch up.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Please,” he said, still holding on to her cart.
There something urgent and needy in that, his eyes begging her.
She swallowed. Nodded.
She allowed him to buy her some apple juice and he had a soft drink, and they found a booth near the front window.
“I heard you were... back,” he said.
“Released from the nuthouse, yes.”
“Are you... adjusting okay?”
“You know, Mark, we really didn’t know each other all that well. We almost went out for a date. If you’re thinking about picking up where we left off, we missed homecoming.”
He shook his head, averting her stare. “I’m sorry this is so awkward. I really don’t know what to say, Jordan. But I want to help.”
“Really? You’re not going to pretend this is a coincidence?”
“What?”
“Running into me. Grocery shopping.” She raised her can of apple juice as if in toast, but was indicating the CPD on his chest. “You’re on the Cleveland PD.”
“I am.”
“The T-shirt’s a nice touch. Casual way to let me know and maybe help keep my guard down.”
He shrugged, sipped his soft drink. “You don’t have to keep your guard down around me, Jordan. We’re old friends.”
“No. Not really. I covered that. Weren’t you listening? That black cop — what’s his name... Grant? He sent you, didn’t he?”
Mark lowered his gaze again, but this time his eyes still met hers. “Yeah.”
“Figured as much. What makes you think I’ll tell you anything I wouldn’t tell him?”
“Grant prompted this, but I would have come looking for you, anyway. He’s how I found out that you weren’t in St. Dimpna’s anymore.”
“So he’s using us both, then. Send Pryor, why don’t we? He knew the fucked-up little ditz back in high school — maybe he can get her to talk.”
“It’s not like that,” he said.
“How is it then?”
He frowned.
She grunted something that was not quite a laugh, then sipped her juice. “High school was a lifetime ago, Mark. Let it go.”
He touched her hand. Her spine stiffened, but she didn’t draw away. His was a light touch, gentle, warm, not grasping, just fingers on the back of her hand.
“I wanted to see you,” he said, holding her eyes despite a shyness in his. “You must think I was horrible, not coming to see you, after what happened to your folks and your brother.”
Now she withdrew her hand, but in a fashion as gentle as his touch had been.
“But I was just a kid,” he said, with an embarrassed shrug. “I was afraid. You’re right — we didn’t really know each other that well. But I knew there was... something between us, or that maybe there could be. When I tried to visit you at St. Dimpna’s, I got turned away, ’cause of my age.”
“You got older.”
“Yeah. I got older, and went to college, and...”
“You got busy. Life went on. You moved on.”
“There’s truth in that. I won’t deny it. But I never forgot you, Jordan, or what happened to you. How... helpless I felt, not being able to do anything for you. My parents found out about your... condition. You’re, uh... cured? You’re not catatonic anymore, obviously.”
“I was never catatonic.”
“You didn’t talk for ten years.”
“I didn’t have anything to say.”
Then, for several moments, neither did they.
“I was weak,” he said quietly, “not coming to see you. Not dealing with you in the... state you were in. I let you down.”
She had some more juice. “Mark, really. How many times do I have to say it? We weren’t a couple. We were two kids who nodded at each other in the hall.”
He smiled, just a little. “I know. This is the longest conversation we ever had.”
She smiled, just a little, too. For a moment.
Mark sighed, seemed to be summoning courage, then said, “Yes, I came here to see you today, to see if you would talk about what happened. No, not what happened — but about the case.”
“How did you know I shopped here?”
“Grant gave me your schedule. They’ve been watching you.”
“Are they still?”
“I don’t think so. They’re not really investigating your case as much as they’re looking into a similar crime in Strongsville.”
She didn’t say that she was very aware of that crime. Instead she asked, “Why aren’t the Strongsville police handling it? Grant’s a Cleveland cop, like you, right?”
“Right. But Grant’s a big-time homicide detective, and Strongsville’s a bedroom community and they requested the help.”
“What kind of cop are you?”
He frowned, wondering if that was sarcastic or an insult, perhaps. “Pardon?”
“A detective, like Grant, but newer to the force? Maybe you’re in uniform when you aren’t stalking old high school girlfriends in grocery aisles.”
He frowned deeper, not sure if she was kidding him or giving him a dig. She wasn’t sure herself.
“I just made detective.” He swallowed, flicked a smile, then his expression turned sober. “Jordan, I became a cop because of what happened to your family.”
Jordan tried to find words to respond to that, but couldn’t.
“So this meeting up with you today,” he said, “is more about me wanting to help than doing some kind of favor for Grant, who I barely know, frankly.” He had a gulp of the pop. “I’m just a newbie nobody to him. If it wasn’t for the coincidence that you and I knew each other in high school, I would never have been on his radar.”
“But you did come to see me to talk about the case.”