Silver
Page 11
Anne is a no go because she could either listen and be supportive or go right into how none of this is surprising. “All guys do this no matter how good you think they are or want them to be” she would say. Mom doesn’t know anything yet, and I don’t need her mouth blabbing any of my secrets to the world. I love her to death, but she talks and talks and talks. Most of the time I believe she doesn’t even realize what she is saying.
The unexpected storm that rolled in matched my day and mood. High winds, black clouds, and pelting rain ran through me as if I were the one conducting the orchestra of elements. Not to mention I could feed people for days with all the bread, cookies, and cupcakes I made. The rain kept me from going out to buy more containers, or there would’ve been more.
That's what I can do instead of polishing the wood again. I can go into the downstairs pantry to find more containers. I head toward the door to lock it before heading into the basement. The excursion could take a while since the downstairs pantry is my junk pantry. I'm always telling myself I will clean and organize the monstrosity on a free weekend, but you know, out of sight, out of mind and the next week begins.
My hand reaches for the latch when there’s a pounding on the other side. The sudden noise has me jumping two feet in the air, scaring the shit out of me. Who could be knocking on my door? No one shows up unannounced on a Sunday evening. Especially after a storm like the one that rolled past us.
There's more knocking as I stand stock still not knowing what to do. I'm not the woman always expecting danger, and I've always felt safe in this neighborhood and town, but this is completely unexpected. I might not have grown up on this side of town, but I've always been a part of this community to some degree.
The strikes are loud and purposeful. Whoever is on the other side wants to be heard, wants me to answer the door. In one of my romance novels, Silver would be on the other side demanding my attention, apologizing for his silence. But this is real life, not some sappy romance novel where there’s always a happy ending.
Then, out of nowhere, the voice I've been dreaming of for almost my entire life penetrates the door. “Gin, you in there?” A beat of silence and then, “Baby, open up, we need to talk. I need to talk.”
Did I wish him to my front door? Could he feel my anxious body running through his? His pleas are desperate, begging me to be here to open up the door. Hoping I will let him talk and forgive him of whatever is making his voice fall apart.
My mouth is dry; no words can be formed to let him know I am here. Slowly I reach for the knob. The door creaks as inch by inch the seal is broken. The sight before me almost brings me to my knees. There on my porch is a man wet from all of my trees reaching toward the door, ready to knock again.
We stand face to face not saying a word. Our shocked looks are for different reasons. Mine that he’s here and his that I'm opening up the door.
“Hey,” I force out, rough and raw, but still something. Silver’s hand is in the air, his wide eyes looking at me.
“G…in,” barely comes out of his lips. Not even sure if he really said my name.
I open the door fully instead of saying anything, too afraid of what might come out. The girl is ready to scream, “Silver is here!” but the woman is jaded, guarded of what all this means. The woman wants to hold all of our cards close to our chest. Make him work for us to show him even one ounce of forgiveness.
He stands here looking at the open invite into my home, but his feet don’t move. I move a step to the right, show him the path is open for his next move, pleading with him to take it like I never pleaded before.
“Can I come in?” breezes through the entry way and I nod one time.
His eyes scan my immaculately cleaned house, and I notice a little tug of his lip, trying not to smile. Taking a quick glance at the open space, it does look show ready. There is not a fringe on a throw pillow out of place.
“I tend to clean when I'm anxious,” I blurt out of nowhere. Put me in a grave now and cover me up. The first words could’ve been “Hi, how are you?” or “Why are you here?” –nice and strong questions, but no, my spaz mouth admits to being anxious and over-cleaning.
Silver is standing in the middle of my living room, doing nothing. He keeps looking from one side of the room to the next, almost like he is looking for something. Like he is waiting for something to happen, not saying a word.
My house is more of an open plan, and for whatever reason Silver makes the space look tiny. His presence takes over and commands the room. I always wanted to be near him. The one unexpected night so many years ago had us together for mere minutes, and I’ve been yearning for the chance again.
Our relationship up until now has been more at a distance, staring at one another from afar. Now here we are again, together, and his body, mind, and soul make me tongue-tied and nervous. I barely remember the trip to Anne’s. If a life or death question came up about that afternoon, I would instantly die. Though I remember the whole Lou incident. I need to call him, I think.
Silver’s on me in two steps. “Who do you need to call?” His hands fall down by his sides, stretching his fingers, trying to keep them at his sides. Seems I said those words out loud.
“Oh,” I grab my neck lightly with my right hand, “what? Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes,” is his only reply back. His eyes narrow, demanding a response—and the right response.
“I need to call Lou. Sorry, didn’t even mean for it to come out.”
“Damn, Gin.” He’s furiously running his hand back and forth through his hair. I probably ruined us before we even had a chance. I turn my eyes toward the floor, already feeling his loss when I watch his boots take a few firm steps, bringing him closer to me. His black boots have become my main focal point. I can’t take my eyes off them. There's some dirt on his left boot. Think I have some shoe polish to clean that right up.
“Sweetheart?” His hand pushes my chin up, bringing us eye to eye. “What are you thinking about?”
Do I tell him or not? Guess he might as well know what he’s getting into with me. “Saw dirt on your boot and was trying to recall where my shoe polish was.” Surprising me, Silver laughs loud and hard at my ridiculousness. My ex would’ve told me to lock my anxiety ticks down and move the fuck on.
“You are adorable.” His compliment and his hand stroking my cheek calm me right down. I forget why I was even anxious. “Do my shoes and your house sparkling have something in common?” Seems being in the house with me is calming his anger, confusion down also. The nerve of him to be calm so soon.
“Maybe.” I shrug, sort of answering his question. I want to be open and honest, but if he finds out all my crazy right away, he’ll probably want to run far, far away. “I…uh…clean…when I'm anxious.” He’s still holding on to my chin, and my eyes are begging for a spot to land that are not his gorgeous gray eyes.
It seems as he has aged, some darker specks have formed with his light gray color. Life’s up and downs marked on each eye, showing me all the trials and celebrations he’s been through. Hopefully it’s more celebrations than trials. There are two small almost black markings on his right eye. They are so small, if we weren’t standing almost nose to nose, I never would’ve noticed. Wonder what in life could’ve caused those.
The longer we stand in this position the more comfortable I become. My shoulders relax, and my breathing is quiet. When I think we are going to break apart, his eyes go down, and I’m now staring at his lids. Don't get me wrong, they are nice lids, but the hit to the gut I feel when his eyes aren’t on me rocks me to my core.
My specks of silver and gray are gone, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I take a step from him to gain my composure. Why he’s here still hasn’t been brought up. Instead of getting sucked into his world, I need to stay in mine until I get all the answers. “Why are you here, Silver?” I need to be strong and stand up for myself. My backbone is stronger than ever, but Silver will always be my Achilles’ heel.
“I feel awful. I mean, I don’t know how it happened.”
My mind is taken over by flashbacks of the night in my ex’s office. Over-the-top moaning, the words he used to Her on our anniversary. Both sets of eyes looked up at me at the same time I barged through his door. She had the decency to look a tad shocked and embarrassed. To Him, it was just another day in the office. No screaming ensued—no one finished, though, a point for me. After the mouse rushed her clothes back on and scurried out, all he had to say was, “It just happened.”
He wanted me to sit opposite his throne and talk about it. I would see his way. Yes, plans changed on my end, but he was planning on meeting me at the restaurant, so naturally it was all my fault.
It was our anniversary, and that’s all I could think about. The actual act didn’t tear me apart as much as the date. All the hard damn years with him and the kids, it was me who kept it all together. It was me who helped the kids morning, noon and night during his long work hours. God only knows what he was doing during these long work hours because he wasn’t coming home to do me.
Fingertips skim up the back of my arm, pulling me from the gross loop I was in. “Where did you go, Gin?” He’s concerned and trying to calm me down again.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You were here one second and then gone. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
My eyes travel down to where his hand is still tickling my arm, sending goosebumps all over my body. How can such a simple act bring my body alive? I want him to touch me more, but I’m not skilled enough to know how to ask. My fingers itch to reach out and rub his broad shoulders, to feel the true Silver.
I can’t do that until I hear what he has to say. I will not be made a fool again. Even if I want to jump him in my living room. “Go on.”
He begins to rub his hair again, and now my body aches to be closer. I want us to lie on the couch. My hands run through his luscious locks all night. For his head to lie in my lap, his arms wrapped around me while watching TV or talking about our days.
“All I was saying was I don’t know how I missed your phone call or message.”
Oh, was not expecting those words. “It did go straight to voicemail.”
“Really? Must have been talking to one of my girls.”
“Excuse me?” I can feel every emotion drain from my body. What is he even talking about?
“Wait, wait.” His hands are in the air telling me to stop. “My mom and daughter.”
“What?” I bite out. The anger is trying to build, wanting to be let out. Tears are trying to form, but I blink them away. I will not cry no matter what.
Silver tries to touch me again, but I step away first, and he doesn’t try again. His eyes are pleading for me to listen. Maybe I’m not cut out for relationships and men.
“I talk to my mom and daughter daily, mostly at night.” He’s pacing the room, and for some strange reason his agitated mood is making me feel a little better. “I was waiting to hear from you. Then I noticed there was an unheard message on my phone. I knew it was you and drove straight over.”
He stalks his way back into my personal space, and this time our noses are touching. “Didn't even listen to it until I pulled into your driveway. I'll never erase my first message from you.”
His breath is mingling with mine, and it's intoxicating. We are breathing each other in, his manly scent and my sweet one. Did I brush my teeth today? Wait, yes, and had nothing garlicy. I should be good.
His arms thread through mine, forcing them to wrap around his shoulders. My fingers automatically sink to the bottom of his scalp. I can feel his goosebumps from my light touch; it’s empowering. His arms around my waist tighten with my touch. This is the perfect school slow dance position. Our upper bodies are touching, but our lower halves are not. Silly where my mind goes sometimes.
“What are you smiling about?” A hint of worry is still in his eyes. “I wish I could be in that head of yours. Would make all of this so much easier.” The past almost twenty-four hours are washing away. I can feel my smile coming back and his mirroring mine.
“You would probably run away if you were in there.” We are so close to each other, I can feel his silent chuckle. I squeeze him a little closer, wanting to feel all of his emotions. Never have I had an emotional connection with a man.
“I bet I could handle that brain of yours.” The playful words and wink make my knees go weak. Can he really be true? I've lived my life a certain way; this is my time for fun. Someone there for me, to laugh with me and cry with me. No questions asked.
In all my years of marriage, we never once stood around holding each other. But Silver was always the playful guy. I caught a few glimpses of his true personality in his mother’s store.
Most of my young life I was trying to be myself in a world full of fake privilege. We are all privileged, but my dad works damn hard and so did his father and so forth. My ex worked his ass off in college, and I equated that to him being like my father. It took a long time to admit to myself how wrong I was. I made so many excuses to the outside world and to myself.
Silver’s family is the epitome of family. They are there for each other, and when one is down, the rest jump in and take care of business. Anyone can see this when they walk into their world. Probably one of the reasons why I was drawn to him in the first place. Our mothers would’ve been best friends if social statuses didn’t get in the way. Such is life, I guess.
“I can’t believe you drove straight here. Plus, you remembered where I live. It took Anne a few times with my help to get here, but you… It was one time.”
“I think if I ever needed to find you, I would.” We are swaying back and forth now. “You don’t know how many times.” He shakes his head instead of finishing, and I'm glad.
I slide my right hand out of his hair to palm his cheek. “We don’t need to do the ‘what ifs.’ We are here right now, and that’s all that matters.” It can feel impossible to accept hard truths like that, but this one has to win out. We cannot live in the past. We cannot think of “what if”—all of those thoughts would destroy the “what could be,” eating the relationship away from the inside out.
I've been dreaming of this moment since I knew what a princess was from my childhood stories. The strong knight coming to save the princess and living happily ever after.
Mom loved that I loved to read, but she worried at times about my fascination with “love.” She wanted me to be prepared for real life and all the hardships in a relationship that stories and movies don’t show. The real truths behind the scenes.
I break from his hold and love his big, shocked eyes. Who would’ve guessed, me, Ginny Wellington, could make larger-than-life Silver worried? My smile soothes his shock, and he gives me a big, toothy smile back. This might be our greatest game, who has the upper hand?
I grab his hand and head toward the couch. “Let’s sit and watch some TV.”
“Yeah, whatever you want.”
“You sure you want to say that out loud?”
“Absolutely…well, at least for now.”
I bump my elbow into his side for the snide comment. We laugh, sit, and snuggle into one another. This closeness feels like we’ve been doing this forever. Our daily lives end right here, on the couch at night. Talking about our days, our children, our secrets, and then off to bed, too early to sleep.
I’m wrapped up in his arms, my legs curled up on top of his, and he’s completely content. There hasn’t been any more conversation about the miscommunication. We talked it over and put it to rest. We are probably both
happy about the mishap that brought us together tonight.
Two episodes have gone by, and all we’ve done is sink into the couch even more. We will have to be pried out because I don’t think either one of us has moved a single muscle. Not a word has been said, other than us laughing at the same time at the same scenes. When I noticed us laughing together, my mind went to the past. I stopped myself really quick, since I had the whole “we aren’t doing that” speech. Keeping in the now might be a bit harder than I imagined.
The only two people I ever saw cuddle was my mom and dad. Even my extended family didn’t show love of that kind except maybe behind closed doors. The older I got, the more I started to notice this happening a lot at the country club. Every male and female flirted with the opposite sex. Now, some was fun and innocent, but I watched full on petting going on in front of their spouse, and nothing was said.
I had this friend in high school who invited me over for a sleepover one weekend. I was excited; she wasn’t over the top like some, but I always kept her in front of me. I knew she would stab anyone in the back if and when needed. Well, we had a nice night with dinner, tons of snacks, facials, and funny movies. Real girly-girl stuff and her mom helped with the facials.
Now, I never met the woman before, but she seemed like a decent person, good mom. So, we are like three movies in and stuffed to the max with junk, when her mom answers the door. We can hear laughing and flirty giggling, then I notice it’s a man’s voice. I said something about her dad being home, and she was like “no” all casual.
I thought nothing of it, and we went back to watching the movie. The credits end, and we can hear them having sex, like full-blown, loud, moaning sex. Again, I bring up her dad, and she goes off about how crappy he is, doesn’t care about them the way he should, and so on, so forth with awful words.
The house they lived in was probably a few million, and it had the top-of-the-line everything, so I'm not sure how much more they wanted. To top it off, she made it seem like her dad knew of these guys coming over. I even think some entertained her too.