by Leanne Davis
I have no doubt she’ll be even better than any of those boys doing the same thing.
I remembered when she told me she loved me, after we had sex. I froze and uttered a casual thanks for the compliment. I stole her heart and turned her proclamation into a generic cliché. I failed to realize it was the gift of my lifetime.
Now, I want it more than everything, but is it too late?
I recall what I put her through. Watching me cavorting with Ireena, and then sleeping with strange women every weekend night for at least a year-and-a-half. I cringe when I remember how often she witnessed it. She did not just hear about it; she lived through it.
And now I ask her to forget all that and trust me? Believe in me? I pushed her to the point when she finally gave up on me and ignored her true feelings. Now, I can finally see the beautiful diamond I held in my hand and threw away.
That’s the story of my miserable life.
She rises to her feet. “I know this is hard for you. But I can’t be the vehicle that gets you through this. Not like how we were. I can be your actual friend. A trusted, caring friend, who also has a boyfriend that might accompany me when I’m around you.”
I nod. I have to respect her wishes, but I start to grasp all the work I have to do if I intend to show her I’ve changed. I’m better than I was. I can improve even more… and I will.
Is it too late?
I spare a quick glance her way. Her eyebrows are wrinkled as she slowly gets to her feet. She won’t look at me. Her face is tinged with a pink blush. Is it embarrassment or a sign of interest? I wonder. I will never forgive myself if I don’t try harder. I briefly think of a few manipulative things I could do to get my way with Claudia, but I refuse to be like that anymore. I want her for real, so I need to prove myself to her, and show her that she can trust me, and I will never hurt her. I want to break her up with Cooper whoever the fuck he is. I feel small and vindictive as I plot to easily pull her from him. I really think I could. I can’t stand to think of her going home to him tonight. He’ll touch her face as I just did. He’ll look into her eyes and absorb all the warmth, joy, and light that shines from them. He’ll bask in that while I sit quiet and alone in the dark tonight.
But if I try to manipulate her or bring her to me through false pretenses and jealousy, I’ll only cheapen our relationship. I should have realized that long ago.
I have no profound excuses. I soured on love and relationships, courtesy of my brother and Ireena, and then I became a stupid, small, jerk that needs to grow up.
I don’t want to be that jerk anymore. I can’t get what I want. Not now. And I have to trust that someday I will get it. Even if I can’t guarantee it. Not now. Fuck, even I know I don’t deserve it.
She starts to circle around the couch. It’s awkward and tension fills the space between us. Something new for us. I hate it. I hate what we’ve become. But I can’t deny she’s right about everything.
“What? What would it take?” I ask, leaning forward. I want to bury my face between my knees I’m so embarrassed to ask her. But I have to know. What would it take to make her turn from Cooper to me? Going from a sure thing to a huge chance and a risk?
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“What would it take to make you believe I’m ready to change? I want to be trustworthy. What would it take to be with you?”
I don’t turn, but I sense her motioning behind me. I’m not sure if she’s fidgeting or making faces behind my back, which I deserve. “I don’t know how to answer that. I can’t… wait. I can’t just sit around waiting to see what you decide to do after the grief and shock wear off. I have to live my own life, and keep moving forward as I planned.”
“So… everything. I have to change everything.”
“Devon, stop. Just stop. It’s not fair. You can’t do this to me. Not over and over again. When I finally find the strength to move on, you suddenly pop up, all confused about it. Let it be. Let us be friends, the ones you always thought we were, right? I want to tell Cooper we are friends, so I can still see you. I don’t want it to be awkward or weird. I don’t want to sneak out to see you because of how it might appear to Cooper.”
It turns my stomach, but I reply, “I understand.”
“You understand? What does that mean?”
“That means I understand what I did and didn’t do and where that leaves us. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with me. I don’t want to go back to how weird it was. I’m sorry. You’re right. I screwed up tonight.”
She could be right. Perhaps. Maybe.
But I really hope I’m not that shitty and fake. I want this to be real. I haven’t felt so sure of something, maybe ever.
“I should go. I’ll cover for you at work over the next few days. Take care of your mom and Damion and yourself.”
It’s painful to realize she’s pushing me away and telling me to take care. Nice and sweet and helpful as ever. But she doesn’t ask me to call her.
“Yeah. Thank you. I’ll let you know any news or details.”
“Thank you.”
Stiff and formal now, she turns and quietly leaves. I watch her disappear and know I deserve my hollow, sad loneliness, but it’s worse. I might be in love and never have a chance with the only person I think I could love.
Which is exactly what I did to her.
Chapter 12
CLAUDIA
It’s impossible to know how I feel. I left Devon after a heated, strange encounter where we came too close to kissing, and I must confess that I wanted to. As natural as a blink, I could fall back in love with him. And unlike being with my brother, which is how I feel with Damion, when it comes to Devon, I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be. So easily, I’m caught in his gaze, and that moment makes me forget everything I know to be true. And that’s it. Devon will never feel the way I once did about him. And I’m just beginning to get over those feelings for him. Being flooded by them can only drown me, and it is not a healthy way to start. I think about what Cooper might be offering me. Reciprocation. I don’t want to be the only one feeling this way.
Devon is hurting and confused right now and I’m comforting, stable, and familiar. I’m like an old, favorite hoodie he puts on when he’s upset and needs to hunker down and recoup. That’s me. The faithful yellow Labrador or his favorite pair of slippers. Yeah, I’m all that. Safe. Boring. Predictable. And always there.
Guilt tries to invade my thoughts but I nip it in the bud before I get home. I didn’t do anything, even if I might have thought about it. It seemed so natural. But I didn’t do it, so I don’t owe Cooper an apology or an explanation. My friendship and what we talked about is between Devon and me. I’m sure Cooper has his own issues with someone from his past that isn’t my business.
Something tugs at my brain, but no, it’s not Cooper. He’s usually available and seems completely forthright with me. In fact, he seems to want me all the time, no matter what. He gives me one hundred percent access to him and everything in his life, unlike Devon ever does or would. And I can’t fully return it because of the residual feelings I have for Devon. But since there is no romantic relationship or marriage, I keep it quiet. Cooper knows I’m friends with the Willapana family, including Damion and Devon. I never fully articulated how much closer I was to one twin. I never said I had sex with one and not the other. But it happened before Cooper, so I don’t feel I owe him that chapter of my life, at least not yet. Someday. Maybe with time. So until then, I’ll keep my history with Devon pristine and nothing I can’t tell Cooper about if the need arises.
I doubt it will.
There are constant phone calls for the next few days from one end of my family to the other. Not only Devon’s family and mine, but also my extended family, ranging from California to Washington state.
Damion struggles to function every day. I stop by there daily, not only to check on him but also to give Dayshia extra love. She’s more or less still unaware of her mother’s death. I have to give Dam
ion credit for that. He always keeps his mood, voice, and even his body language warm and receptive to Dayshia. He reserves his raw emotions, confusion, hurt, and sadness for the times when she’s not around. I’ve also seen Kaeja several times. She takes comfort in Dayshia’s company after losing her dear friend. Ireena had very few friends and her family was not particularly warm so it seems Kaeja provided Ireena with companionship more than anyone else.
I think everyone who was there on the day Ireena died was never the same after that. It’s the type of experience that stays with you for the rest of your life. It’s something I often think about when I’m stressed over a business complaint or stuck in traffic or bothered by any of the modern-day problems that make me feel like a failure or keep me from getting things done.
At those times, I remind myself that I am still alive and well, living here on earth, despite being annoyed, or frustrated, or feeling like a failure. Even my occasional depression over Ireena and Devon and Damion, and when I worry about little Dayshia, seem like a gift from the universe. It reminds me that I’m alive. Feeling compassion and connecting to other human beings, I never come out of these relationships unscathed. They always affect me.
But I’m still here.
Devon misses work for a few days. I call him regularly, as well as Damion and Chloe. I want to make sure everyone is doing okay. I still worry so much about them. At least, they are sticking close together.
“Do you need any help with the funeral arrangements or the memorial service?”
“No,” Devon replies. “Pastor Simon from our church here in Silver Springs will conduct the service. Ireena’s body will be cremated and interred at the cemetery next to it. A reception at the church will follow.”
I pause. “This must be extra hard on your mom. Wasn’t that where Ebony’s memorial service was held?”
“Yeah. We’ve been talking about Ebony quite often recently. This tragedy stirred up a lot of sad feelings for my mom and grandparents.”
“I’ve always understood why she wanted to get you and Damion back on speaking terms, but I also knew her life experience couldn’t be yours.”
“No. But her loss in many ways did help Damion; at least he’s starting to grapple with it now. The service is scheduled for this weekend. I probably won’t return to work until after that.”
“Of course, no problem. I’ve got you covered.”
He falls silent. A deafening quiet.
“Devon?”
“I know you will. You always have. I just never realized how much.” He has a deeper, huskier voice, one that I’ve never heard before. I shut my eyes and drop my forehead onto my hand as if the weight of holding it up is too much. Years. For years I’ve wanted to hear that husky tone. Now, I’m confused and flustered. Even unsure that I want to hear it again. I don’t trust it. I consider it a side effect caused by the jarring loss of Ireena. The insanely complicated circumstances surrounding her death affected all the people involved, especially Devon, and it was bound to take a toll. It’s odd, strange, and exactly a mirror image of what we’re experiencing.
Has he convinced himself I can make all of that better for him? Yeah, that could be the coping mechanism I fear he’s clinging to. I am his standard coping mechanism: comforting, familiar and sympathetic. But I don’t want it to be the reason for us to be more than friends. I can’t let the current situation cloud our judgment into thinking we are something that we really are not. It’s no basis for lasting love. That’s the kind of love I want. What Devon once felt for Ireena. Not based on gratitude or guilt, but friendship, with the added spark of chemistry and so much more.
I ignore the comment, clearing my throat before saying, “I’ll be there, of course. If you guys need anything before or after that, I’m here, too. Okay?”
He sighs. “I know that, too.” Luckily, he drops it.
Saturday dawns, and it’s raining with mild temperatures. I welcome the depressing, dark clouds. It feels more appropriate than the sunshine and heat.
My parents arrive so I ride with them to the church. In the foyer, I see all the family. We are instantly enveloped with hugs and warm hellos. Damion and Devon flank the doors that lead inside the church. Dayshia is nestled in Chloe’s arms, her head hidden. She won’t be staying too long. They are sending her home with Adaline, who said she couldn’t attend a funeral in the same church where she buried her daughter. So after a few courteous hellos, Dayshia and Adaline leave.
I see Kaeja and some friends from college that I want to greet and make small talk with. I am ready for their shock and I can’t believe this happened! comments. When I approach Devon, my stomach churns into knots. Not from grief as it should be or sadness for him. Hell, no. My stomach is filled with butterflies because he is wearing a dark suit. He looks so handsome and dashing and all the other hot-guy adjectives, that my God. My knees nearly buckle. I’m drooling and getting so hot right now and wet inside my panties. I can’t help imagining all the things I remember doing with him. His wonderful hands. The toned, sleek muscles on his naked thighs. How perfectly his tongue fits inside my mouth. No. See? This is what always happens to me whenever I’m around Devon. All my fantasies return in living color. Of course, they are all about him. Centered on him. No other man. Not ever. Never movie stars or singers or models. No. Exclusively Devon. My panties don’t get wet for any other guy. I have no physical reaction to any other guy. None. This is entirely about Devon.
I’m wearing a conservatively somber, dark navy dress and low heels. My hair is swept back as tightly as my springy curls will allow. Some strands refuse to cooperate, and I have little frizzies around my temples. Not the cute kind of frizzies, that men enjoy wrapping their fingers around in a sexy way. No. Mine, unfortunately, are thick corkscrews that just look weird sticking out of my head. They also repel most hairsprays and gels.
Devon’s gaze scans over me and his expression says I’m everything he ever wanted to see. I’m definitely confused by it. I blush and try to shake Ireena’s boss’s hand before we try to describe our shock and exchange trite condolences.
When Devon first noticed me, I wasn’t sure if my wishing for it convinced me it was true, but I swear, his eyes remain on me, following me around. I stop right in front of him. His eyes are heavy-lidded and red. He rubs them, and I smile with understanding. “You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted.”
In response, I step closer as he swoops down and wraps his arms around me. I despise myself for relishing how comfortable it feels. My eyes flutter shut, and I grip his shoulders tightly as my entire body presses into his. This is my fantasy. It combines all of my understanding and excitement and friendship with undeniable chemistry. I am aware of every emotion I’ve ever harbored for him. Now that he seems to have tapped into some kind of version of that towards me, my heart is swelling, and my mind is reeling. The irrepressible desire fills my head with cartoon images. I see a rope lassoing my heart and hog-tying it before slapping it on the rear end and shouting, NO! Fool me once… and all that nonsense.
We hug each other so tightly and long that the line behind us detours around us like a roadblock in a busy line of traffic. I don’t care. “Can you just stay near me?” he whispers into my ear.
Without a moment of hesitation or consideration, my reply is yes. Of course! And I do. I stand beside him, our hands clasped together as he fields the endless train of well-wishers who offer sympathy and words of caring. It is nice to observe, but I can also see that Damion and Devon are exhausted by it. The only time Devon lets go of my hand is to hug people, and then he goes right back to gripping it.
Finally, we file into the church. The family sits in the front and there seems no question, as Devon never releases my hand, when I sit right beside him. I wonder what people will think? Oh, it looks like Claudia and Devon are still best friends. Aren’t they cute? Does anyone notice how we’re hanging on each other? Or was it always that way? Am I just more sensitive and aware of it now? I really don’
t know. But no one seems surprised since we always spent most of our time together.
When we were about twenty or so, people often asked me why we never dated or hooked up since we always were together. I just scoffed casually and replied, no, we’re childhood friends and more like cousins. But my heart would beat faster as my wishing, longing, and mooning after Devon became uppermost in my mind. Devon was on a vigorous dating spree with lots of co-eds and twenty-somethings but never for very long. I thought he needed to grow up before he could realize that I was always there, right in front of him. That was when he met Ireena and the trajectory of our potential was instantly diverted—I believed forever at the time, but now I see it could have changed.
I did not, however, foresee us sitting before Ireena’s latest incarnation. Now, her ashes filled a small urn. The pastor recited a solemn prayer and song that was dedicated to her life. I never managed to foresee that we’d be sitting here for Ireena, formerly Damion’s wife, not Devon’s. I sigh, knowing there is never an easy way to register such a scene.
With our fingers intertwined, we often glance at each other, talking only with our eyes. It’s impossibly sad and still confusing. All of it. Ireena. Damion. Us.
But I try to shake it off. I mingle with others and try to enjoy the reception. I am happy to see old friends and acquaintances that Ireena and I both knew from college. No one can deny the underlying tragedy of the gathering. I eat very little; my stomach is too jittery with nerves. There is just no way I can relax.
Finally, the time to leave becomes acceptable. Damion is escorted out by his parents. Devon looks at me before tugging on my hand and taking me out of the room. We go to a small alcove located outside the main church. “Thank you. I could not have gotten through this without you.”