by L. D. Davis
Everyone quieted. Everyone looked at me and waited.
“Both,” I finally said to Leo and everyone else. “I was doing drugs again. He helped me stop and he’s helped me stay clean ever since.”
They all gawked at me, shocked, horrified, and confused. None of them knew about my slip back into depravity.
“Wait,” Donya said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “You’ve been clean for eleven years, Mayson.”
“I went into recovery almost eleven years ago, but I’ve only been clean for two years,” I responded before looking directly at Luke. “Whatever Kyle Sterling is to you, he’s not that man for me, and I refuse to pretend otherwise. If Emmy and Kyle had never worked out their shit, then that would be one thing, but they did. It’s you who hasn’t worked out your shit, Luke.”
I got to my feet then. I was so finished with the conversation, but Emmy wasn’t. She stood up, too, swiping angrily at fat tears on her face. She pointed violently in my direction.
“You cannot accuse us of not caring when you don’t volunteer pertinent information about yourself! None of us knew. You didn’t tell any of us.” She gestured to the table. “But you told Kyle, the guy you hated.”
“I didn’t have a choice! And for the record, I did try to tell you! I tried to tell all three of you at once one day on the phone, but as usual, as soon as I started talking about myself, you guys turned it back to yourselves before I could say it.”
“You’re exaggerating, I’m sure,” Emmy said dryly, putting a hand on her hip.
I shouted my next words, losing nearly every bit of control I had left.
“I told you that I was struggling! I told you that I needed help! Do you know what you said? The same bullshit you always say. ‘Try taking a couple of toddlers to the grocery store, May. That’s a real struggle.’ Then you all laughed and started telling stories about your stupid kids at the stupid store! You cut me off like you always do.”
Emmy looked like I had slapped her in the face. Her mouth hung open and she stared at me with astonishment as she slowly shook her head.
“You had been clean for over eight years,” Tabitha said, just as disbelieving as Emmy. “I don’t think any of us would have for a second thought that you were struggling with drugs again. You were doing so well.”
“Does it matter what it was I was struggling with?” I yelled. “Am I less important because I don’t struggle with children and a husband?”
“Why didn’t you make us listen?” Emmy shouted back at me.
“Why should I have to make you listen?” I cried.
Everyone was quiet again. Emmy continued to stare at me as tears dripped from her eyes, but she said nothing. There was really nothing more for any of us to say. We would just go round and round in circles.
When Emmet’s eyes shifted behind me, I turned around and found that we had a small audience. Lucas, Owen, and Lenny, the three older children of the three couples at the table, stood just beyond the sliding glass doors, watching us apprehensively.
I immediately felt sorry that they had heard any part of the argument. Although I wasn’t necessarily fond of children, I was pretty fond of the ones watching us. Kids should be kids, unburdened by the complications of adults. No child should have to witness their parents getting yelled at by an unstable crazy woman.
“I’m done,” I murmured to the table at large without looking directly at any one of its occupants.
I bypassed the back door and walked around the house to make my escape. No one called my name and no one followed me.
I walked the few blocks to the boardwalk and beach, thankful that I was already wearing a light jacket. I played the epic argument over in my mind, remembering every word and every high strung emotion between all of us. Then I pushed rewind and played it again and again.
Over the years, my cousins and I have had our disagreements, but none of them had been as open and raw as the one we’d just had. Maybe it could have been avoided, but only if I had kept my mouth shut and accepted the assigned role they had bestowed upon me. I wasn’t wrong, though. I wasn’t wrong in defending Kyle, despite what had happened between him and Emmy, and I wasn’t wrong in calling my cousins out for the way they had treated me over the years.
I knew I wasn’t wrong, but the fight weighed heavily on me. The sense of separateness that I had always felt with my family intensified. The small rifts that had lain between us were suddenly canyons. It was all of them on one side, and me—just me—on my own side. Alone, as I had been for most my life.
When I returned to the house a couple hours later, it was mostly dark. The kitchen light was on and I heard the soft murmurs of conversation. I didn’t have to go look to know that it was my Uncle Fred and Donya. I had never seen a father and daughter with the incredible dynamic that they had. He had a better relationship with her than he did with Emmy or any of his other kids.
Donya and Emmy became best friends when they were in kindergarten. D’s home life wasn’t the greatest, so she spent an extraordinary amount of time with the Graynes. She was so very much entwined with the family that I was seven or eight years old before I realized that my fair skinned Aunt Sam hadn’t actually given birth to the black beauty.
For reasons I’ll never know, Donya and Uncle Fred formed a tight bond. Emmy never admitted it out loud to me, but sometimes I see the envy and regret in her eyes when she sees her closest friend and her father together. I never admitted it out loud, either, but I was definitely envious.
I loved my dad. I loved his smile. I loved his laugh and the way he used to tease me and tickle me until I couldn’t breathe. I have fond memories of him dancing with me in the dance studio attached to our house, and of him sneaking me candy and other sweets when my mom wasn’t looking. I remember what it was like when he came home from a business trip, and how I would throw myself into his arms and he would hold me so, so tight. They are beautiful memories that I’ll have with me always, but the truth is that those memories are few and far between.
The truth is, the older I got, the less I saw of my father. Adam Grayne, like his elder brother Fred, had a keen sense for business, but unlike his older brother, my dad had put business first. He was gone most of the time and barely saw me as I changed from a small girl to a bigger girl, and from a bigger girl to prepubescent girl, and from that to a sassy tween. He wasn’t there for most of my pageants and recitals, or when I used to beg to play with other children. He wasn’t there when my mother made me dance until my toes bled. He wasn’t there when I began to rebel, or when I started doing drugs. He didn’t make a significant appearance in my life until only a couple months before his life had ended, and by then, it was too late. There was nothing left of our relationship to salvage. There was nothing left of me to salvage.
Sometimes I wonder how different my life could have been if my dad had been as involved and active as Fred. Would he have put a stop to all the damn princess training my mother had me in, and let me be a regular kid? Could a healthy relationship with him have steered me clear away from drugs? What if I had him to talk to as easily as Donya speaks to Fred? What kind of a person would I have become? Who would I be today if my dad had cared enough about me to be there for me?
I know that people succeed in life all the time without one parent—or sometimes both parents—but my parents were married. They weren’t estranged, and despite my mother’s callousness, they weren’t abusive. It was like he was always right there at my fingertips, but still very much out of reach. Maybe it would have been better for me altogether had I never known him.
Uncle Fred always treated me very well, and I know he loves me, but he doesn’t love me like a father loves a daughter. I’ll never know what Donya has with him, or even what Emmy has with him.
As I went up the stairs to my room, I felt even worse than I did before I left. When I opened my door and found the bed that should have been full of small sleeping girls empty, instead of feeling elated to have my space back, I felt more apart
from my family than ever before.
Chapter Eighteen
I slept late the next morning, until it became impossible to ignore the noise of eighteen individuals and one dog. I sat on the edge of my bed as I tried to come to some kind of decision. My vacation was supposed to be enjoyable, relaxing, and stress-free, and I wasn’t feeling any of it. Plus, I had no idea what the rest of the days would be like after last night’s fight.
After several minutes of consideration, I decided to first test the waters. I knew it would be a little tense with my cousins, but if it was too much, I would go back home to Philly, or find another beach town and go alone.
I leisurely showered and washed my hair before slipping into a long, strapless, and coral-colored sundress and a pair of silver flip flops. My wrist was adorned with the paperclip bracelet Natalie had made for me. I hadn’t taken the hideous thing off since she had given it to me. No one had even asked me about it, which made my anger flare again, but I took a few deep breaths and tried to let it go.
I went downstairs, carrying my big white floppy hat and beach bag with me just in case I needed to make another quick escape.
It was chaos, a little more than usual. I had forgotten until that moment that a trip to Point Pleasant was planned for the day so that the kids could get on some rides, play games, and get high off junk food.
When I walked into the kitchen where the majority of the adults were, tension seemed to pour into the room. No one stopped talking, and everyone continued on as they were while I poured myself a cup of coffee, but it was obvious that my presence created a palpable unease.
“Mayson, are you still going to Point Pleasant?” Donya asked me after a couple minutes.
It was as if she had just asked me the most personal question ever, because Emmy, Luke, and Tabitha fell silent and watched me with intensity.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to go or not, but I didn’t get a chance to answer. The doorbell rang. From where I stood, I had a direct line of sight to the front door. I didn’t really care who it was waiting on the porch, but it gave me a moment to think as Emmy and Tabitha also turned their attention toward the front of the house.
Leo opened the door and I froze. Although he was a pretty big guy, the man standing opposite him was an even bigger guy. Tall, dark, and mine.
The two men shook hands before Leo stepped aside and let Grant, Alex, and Natalie inside. Nat hugged Dusky, who nearly knocked her over in his excitement. She looked around at the other kids nervously before her eyes traveled down the hall and found me in the kitchen.
“Mayson!” she cried, and ran to me.
I don’t remember putting my coffee down and stepping away from the counter, or even scooping the little girl into my arms, but seconds later, I found myself standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding Natalie, hugging her to me. My cousins looked on with bewilderment, but no one was more bewildered than me.
“Are you supwised?” Natalie asked, pulling back to look into my face.
“I am very surprised, Nat,” I said hoarsely.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I so emotional over a kid? I didn’t even like kids, but when Alex came into the kitchen, I smiled at him and swallowed hard several times to hold back my tears.
“Hey,” I said to him, running my hand over his head. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He gave me a quick, half a hug, but quickly moved away, as grossed out by the affection as I would normally have been.
Grant was in the room, shaking hands with the men, hugging the women, and enduring Sam’s compliments about his good looks. The space was bursting with people as many of the kids piled in as well, but I didn’t really notice or care. People spoke to me and asked me questions, but my brain couldn’t understand their words. My eyes stayed glued to Grant’s every movement and every word as he became my center of gravity.
When he finally laid his eyes on me, I absently put Natalie down and went to him. The moment his arms closed around me, the tension that was inside me broke. A shocked hush swept through the room as I burst into tears against Grant’s chest.
“Hey,” he said softly as his arms tightened around me. “What’s wrong, Baby Girl? You can’t be that happy to see me.”
But I was that happy to see him. I didn’t know until he arrived how much I needed him. If I still had any doubts up until that moment, they were extinguished forever. It had become abundantly clear that Grant and his little minions filled the emptiness inside me. Somehow, the small family of three had adhered itself to my heart and soul.
I no longer felt alone. I hadn’t been alone since Grant came back into my life, it just took me a little while to realize it.
I was happy, but my fight with the family had really gotten to me, more than I had initially believed. I was simply overrun with too many emotions, and all I wanted to do was curl up against Grant.
There were some whispers and kids were herded out of the room, and most of the adults exited as well.
“We’re about to take all the kids to Point Pleasant,” I heard Luke tell Grant in a hushed tone. “I know you don’t know us very well, but we’d be happy to take your kids along. You and Mayson can stay here and talk and join us later if you want.”
“We don’t have enough room unless we take Mayson’s car,” Donya said, also speaking very softly.
I didn’t understand why they were talking so quietly as if I were a bomb they would accidentally set off with noise.
Grant seemed to consider Leo’s offer.
“It’s okay,” I told him, though I wasn’t sure if he understood me. It came out pretty garbled, but I felt him nod a moment later.
“Take Mayson’s car,” he said, making that decision for me.
“Great. We’ll take good care of your kids,” Luke promised. I felt the two men shake hands and then heard Luke exit the kitchen.
I felt Donya’s hand smooth over my hair. “Her bedroom is upstairs and straight back. Maybe she’ll be more comfortable up there until everyone leaves.”
“Thank you.”
I heard her light footsteps leave the room.
Grant pulled away a little and looked down at my face. He wiped my cheeks with his fingers and offered me a small smile. He didn’t say anything but kissed me lightly on the mouth before leading me down the hall and up the stairs. I felt many eyes on us, but I didn’t have it in me to look back.
After seating me on the bed and kissing the top of my head, Grant went back downstairs for a few minutes to talk to Nat and Alex. I tried to quit crying, but the tears kept coming, and my chest continued to shudder with sobs. I was so pathetic.
When Grant returned, he sat down with his back against the headboard. I hitched my dress up over my knees and straddled his lap. He looked a little surprised—which was understandable since I was just as surprised—but I wiped that look off his face when I put my hands on his cheeks and kissed him.
Reluctantly, he kissed me back, but I was relentless as I kissed him hard and met his tongue with eagerness. My eyes continued to leak fat tears, adding a slightly salty taste to our kiss.
He pulled away after a couple minutes. He swiped his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away more moisture.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, slightly breathless.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” was all I would offer before kissing him again.
He groaned as I kissed him deeper and harder. I loved the shape of his mouth, the softness of his lips, and his firm, silky tongue. The fingers on one of his hands wound into my curls as his other hand slid restlessly up and down my side, always stopping just below my breast.
I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to get carried away and go too far, and I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted to push him to the brink and then push him over the edge and take the fall with him.
It wasn’t just want or desire. It was a need, an urgent requisite that had to be filled. Any fear that had been with me even in the smallest doses in the past was gone. All t
hat was left was my love and my hunger.
I rocked my hips against him, and yes…there it was. The proof of his arousal, hard, firm, and trapped behind two layers of fabric.
I gasped and Grant moaned, but our mouths stayed connected. His hands flew to my sides in an attempt to hold me still, to keep me from rocking against him again, but I did do it again with the same result. He held on to me more firmly and his fingers dug almost painfully into my flesh.
He broke the kiss and tilted his head back and gazed up at me. I stared back at him, silently daring him to let me go, to let me do what we both wanted me to do.
As the noise from downstairs began to move outside and car doors started to slam, I put my hands on Grant’s. I continued to stare into his eyes as I attempted to move his hands off my waist. Physically, he was stronger than me, and maybe his will was stronger than mine most of the time, but this wasn’t going to be one of those times.
Slowly, I moved his hands up my body. He resisted some, but that resistance faded more every second. With a shuddering breath, I brought his hands to my breasts.
“Touch me,” I whispered with desperation. “Please.”
He looked into my wet eyes, his handsome face creased with a mixture of concern and desire.
“Please,” I repeated.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I put a hand over his mouth and shook my head.
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it, Grant.”
I reached down between us and stroked him through his shorts and made him moan. His hands reflexively squeezed my breasts.
“No talking,” I said, nearly panting as his thumbs moved over the sensitive tips. “Just feeling.”
Suddenly, his hands were in my hair and he robbed me of my breath as his mouth covered mine in a demanding, unforgiving kiss. His hands slid down over my shoulders and his fingers hooked into the top of my dress. He pulled away from my mouth and looked into my eyes for non-verbal consent. I gave it to him with a slight nod of my head, and half a second later he was pulling my dress down over my breasts.