Forever and Never

by Ella Fields

  His body was granite, his heart a rumbling beast growling against his rib cage. I waited and listened as it slowed to a normal rhythm, and his limbs loosened more with each exhale.

  I waited and then I made it worse all over again. I didn’t say it to hurt him, or maybe I did, I wasn’t sure. But there was little point in hiding anything anymore. “I’ve been with other guys.”

  Lars stiffened beneath me, then released a rough burst of air that rustled the top of my hair. “How many?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  He huffed, arms banding tighter around me. “How many?”

  I sighed. “Two.”

  “Four,” he said.

  “You slept with four guys?” I asked, trying to mask the punch to the chest, and the fresh wave of tears that crashed into my eyes.

  “Funny. You know what I mean.”

  The following silence festered, suffocating and choking. “I’m sorry, Cotton,” he murmured, his lips in my hair and his arms tight around my shoulders and back. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  I whispered the same thing back, and laughed as he grabbed my face, pulling it to his lips for them to meet my forehead, cheeks, and then, ever so lightly, my lips.

  “We can’t,” I said, my hands on his chest.

  Lars swallowed, nodding once. “I know.” He thumbed some mascara from my cheeks. “For the record, it sounds like they’re a perfect match.”

  I knew who he meant and sniffed back a laugh. “It’s scary.” I stared down at his chest, my teeth sliding over my lip. “To think I could’ve ended up like her. A part of me is exactly like her. But it could have been so much worse, if it weren’t for …”

  Lars’s voice was all breath. “Weren’t for what?”

  I met his stare, brief and sincere. “If it weren’t for you. For you and Lily and Glenda.” Then I rolled off him, and with his hands fisted at his sides, he got up, returning a few beats later with a glass of water.

  I thanked him and tried not to watch his ass in those dark sweats when he left the room again to change Lily. I could hear her talking to herself in the monitor behind me.

  Keys in hand, and a happy baby in the other, Lars returned. “What are you doing?”

  “We need ice cream.”

  I couldn’t curb my smile if I’d tried, and I didn’t want to. Draining my water, I jumped up and followed them out the door.

  We took Lars’s car, and although it seemed old as hell, I couldn’t help but smile at the sound it made when it started up.

  “What made you buy that?” I asked as he put Lily in her stroller, reclined it a little, and handed her a bottle.

  She took it, greedy as she pushed it to her mouth and began devouring it. “I’ve wanted one since one of Boyd’s friends brought his in to have its oil changed when I’d started working there. It’s not flashy, but fuck if it’s not the coolest little car I’ve ever seen.”

  Nearing the stroller, I pulled the sunshade lower, then slipped my sunglasses on.

  The sun bounced off the lapping water in bright flashes, making every small business and car around the bay look as though we were trapped inside a snow globe.

  “You don’t think Lily needs something safer?”

  Lars walked beside me, and I noticed some black marks on his shirt from where my mascara had run. I was thankful I’d had my sunglasses to hide whatever mess I’d made of my eyes. “Don’t guilt a guy, Cotton. Besides,” he said, throwing a devastating smirk my way, “I’m careful.”

  I moved my gaze to the pier. He was. He drove that car as if he was delivering the queen, and not a trace of the boy who used to drive mine with such easy rebellion remained.

  “Do you still ride?” I asked when we’d reached the boardwalk.

  “Sometimes,” he said, a tad wistful.

  “It won’t be long until Lily is riding a bike of her own, and then you’ll have a new riding buddy.”

  “That’s true,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  We grabbed two waffle cones, banana and chocolate, from a small stand, and I took Lily’s bottle, capping it and tucking it beneath the stroller when I noticed she was done.

  “Do you think you’ll ever forgive her?”

  I knew he was referring to my mom. “I don’t know if I necessarily need to.”

  Lars pondered that. “Your dad’s okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s good.” I licked some ice cream from my thumb. “You haven’t heard from Annika?”

  Lars tore his eyes from me and stared straight ahead, his jaw tightening. “Not a word.”

  The sound of gulls overhead broke the silence as we reached the ramp that wound down to the shore.

  I took off my heels and held them as we crossed the seaweed strewn sand and stopped beneath the pier. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive her?”

  Lars glanced up, and I followed his eyes to the art he’d decorated the weathered boards with. It’d faded a little more, but it was mostly untouched. The sea monsters with three heads still a vibrant blue, the mermaids and glowing giant jellyfish still breathtaking with their scales and bubbled texture. “I don’t know if I necessarily need to.”

  My eyes shot to him, and I nodded, smiling a little. “When was the last time you drew something?”

  Lars let out a sigh that sounded as though it hurt and purged something invisible from his body. “I think it was when I drew these designs for Cad.”

  I stepped closer to his outstretched arm, a question in my raised hand.

  He nodded, and I gently turned his arm this way and that, taking my first uninterrupted look at the outline etched with black ink into his skin. The mermaid was huge, taking up almost the entirety of his arm with her lithe body, heavy breasts, and curling tail. Surrounding her, weaving around her, was the banner with those words. Those exquisitely harmful words. A sea of stars glowed in the dark, turbulent depths alongside her long hair.

  “It’s incredible,” I breathed. “The detail on her scales, the seaweed over her chest …” I traced it with my finger, felt him shudder, and let go of his arm. “What colors are you thinking?” I knew better than to think he’d keep it black and white. He wouldn’t. It begged to be brought to life by the rest of his colorful imagination.

  He cleared his throat, then went to retrieve a fussing Lily. “Not sure yet.”

  After kicking the brake down on the stroller, he jerked his head toward the water, and I followed, smiling when he lowered Lily to the damp sand.

  She picked it up, and he quickly brushed it out of her hand when she tried to eat it.

  Dropping my shoes, I stole her from him with a laugh, then stood her up as I bent down behind her, the icy water swallowing our feet.

  Lily squealed, her eyes huge and her smile even bigger as we watched the water recede, then come barreling back.

  And when I’d finished bathing all the sand from between her toes later that evening, and tucked her, half asleep, in her crib, my heart burst at what I found waiting for me on the dining table beside my keys.

  Looking toward the bathroom, where I could hear the shower running, I snatched them, my purse, and the picture up, my chest weighted.

  It was a picture of our feet and legs, mine and Lily’s, inside the blue-gray water of the bay.

  Lars

  Staring down at the mermaid on my arm, I let the pencil slip from between my fingers and grabbed my phone.

  I’d had Cad tattoo me over the summer, and though many would raise their brows at the similarities between Daphne and the mermaid on my arm, I didn’t care. I’d figured if she was a blight on my existence, on my fucking soul, it was pointless to hide from it, and I may as well make art from the suffering. For it never ended, and if anything, the tattoo was a reminder of that. To guard whatever remained.

  It was after ten on a Friday night, two weeks after she’d touched the inked skin of my arm. Two weeks that’d made me wonder why I couldn’t have her touch it again.

  Two weeks that’d driven me mad with all th
e reasons.

  Before I could think about it too much, I pressed my finger to her name and wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear as I picked my pencil back up.

  She’d always been a siren, singing to my deepest shadows, urging them to dance with hers since the very beginning.

  Music pounded in the background, thick beneath the sound of Daphne’s loud, “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I traced the space between Lily’s fingers, the grains of sand that her chubby hands had tried to clench. “Where are you?” I winced at how accusing that sounded, as though I had any right to know. I had no fucking right, yet I didn’t take the words back. I didn’t even try to conjure an apology or blanket it with a softer, more appropriate question.

  “At a party,” she said, casual and indifferent as though she was doing nothing wrong. And she wasn’t. I needed to chill, but I hadn’t realized until she’d uttered the word, “Two,” how deep she still lived inside.

  It sickened me to think of anyone else touching her when she was still imbedded in me in such a way that would cease to exist only when I departed this earth.

  Though it sickened me more to know I’d done worse and with far worse intentions too.

  “Are you coming home this weekend?”

  “One second.” I waited as she left the room, the music now a whisper instead of a shout. “Actually, I’m heading home in the morning.”

  “Yeah?” The scratch of my pencil stopped.

  “Yeah, it’s Christmas soon. I have shopping to do.” I shook my head, smiling at that, and felt like a moron when it grew with her next question. “Can I take Lily with me tomorrow while you’re at work?”

  I peered over at the crib to the small figure inside who’d given me hell tonight with a new tooth cutting through. “She’s not a happy girl right now.”

  “Is she sick?” Daphne asked, worried. “Or teething?”

  “The latter.” I sat up and closed my sketchpad. “You’d need to get here by six. I’ve been leaving her with Judy on Saturdays until Mom gets off work. She’s taking all the shifts she can get before Christmas.”

  “Judy in the office?” Daphne said, then cursed. “Lars, what the hell? I’ll take her for you. You know that.”

  I rubbed at my brow, my chest tight. “Daphne, I can’t rely on you.”

  “What?” she snapped. “I’ll have you know, you asshole, that I’m probably one of the only people you can—” She stopped when she heard me laughing. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Chill. I didn’t mean you weren’t reliable. I just meant I don’t want to do that to you.” Silence crept in, and I heard her light something. “Are you smoking?”

  “I had a feeling I’d need one, and some guy was yanking one out of his pack earlier.”

  I hadn’t had a cigarette in weeks, and it was killing me more than it was helping me at this stage.

  “You don’t want to do it to me, or you don’t want to do it to you?” she asked a moment later.

  I sighed, lowering my head to my hand as I swung my legs over the bed. “Neither. Both.”

  “How forthcoming of you.”

  I smirked, then groaned. “I’m beginning to miss you.” I pulled at my bottom lip. “I don’t want to miss you again.” Truth be told, I’d never stopped missing her. Even when I’d never had her before. But it grew worse after seeing her again. After knowing everything.

  Daphne laughed. “I’m offended.”

  “Why?”

  “That you haven’t missed me the whole time. Especially while you had your fingers in some other girl’s cunt in the back seat of my car.” She exhaled roughly. “Of which I paid someone handsomely to clean, fuck you very much.”

  I cringed. “Fuck, did I really miss you then.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “I was so mad,” I admitted. “That’s the only thing I really remember from that night. Was the anger. No matter how much I drank, I couldn’t drown it.”

  Daphne’s voice gentled, and I hated myself. “I know, but it still happened.”

  “I know.” In an effort to lighten the dark, I offered another truth, “So I’m crazy hard right now.”

  More laughter, then she hung up with a, “See you tomorrow.”

  It was nearing two in the morning when I realized the reason I couldn’t sleep wasn’t due to what we’d said, but rather, what I hadn’t said. So I tapped out a quick message before finally falling the fuck asleep.

  Me: I never stopped missing you.

  She never responded, but the way her smile reached her eyes the next morning told me all I needed to know.

  “Oh, my god. Fuck off,” Daphne screamed, racing around the dining table.

  I dived left then right, knowing I had her cornered now. “Don’t say fuck in front of Lily.”

  “You just fucking did,” she said.

  Mom laughed behind me in the kitchen, and I did too. “I’m fucking kidding. Just come here already.”

  She shook her head. “No. Move.”

  “Not until you lick one.”

  “I’ll barf,” she warned, a brow raised. “Is that what you want on Christmas? To be cleaning grown human vomit? I guarantee it’s grosser than Lily’s.”

  I grinned. “I doubt anything is worse than the time she expelled pumpkin stew and milk all over my face.” I squared my shoulders. “So I’ll take my chances.”

  “I’m allergic,” she said.

  “Nice try.”

  “Quit it, Lars,” Mom said, throwing a towel over her shoulder as she went to answer a knock on the door. “If she doesn’t like pickles, she doesn’t like them.”

  “She hasn’t tried them,” I told her.

  “And I’m not going to,” Daphne said.

  Lily squawked, “Da, da,” gnawing on a slice of apple in her high chair.

  “See?” Daphne jerked her head to her. “She says enough too.”

  I sniffed, looked down at the jar, then back at Daphne. She saw the intent in my eyes and rushed to Lily. “No.”

  I had her then and leaped to grab her hand before she could dart away. “You’re so evil,” she said, laughing as my arm wrapped around her waist.

  It fell when Denham entered the kitchen, and we both stood there, mouths gaping open.

  “Hey,” Daphne said, speaking first. “Uh, Merry Christmas.”

  Vince removed his coat and nodded, smiling at us both. “Merry Christmas.”

  Daphne and I bit our smiles, glancing at each other with raised brows as Mom directed him and the gifts he’d brought to the tree in the living room.

  “Och.” Mom swatted the towel at us when she returned. “Stop it.”

  “You guys are still talking?” I asked.

  “Of course, we are,” Mom said, impatient.

  I withheld a laugh, not daring to comment on the fact that when people break up, it usually meant they didn’t talk.

  The biggest reason I didn’t say that asked, “Are your cheeks red?”

  Mom stabbed the spatula in Daphne’s direction, her face whitening with warning.

  Daphne howled with laughter, grabbing some plates to set the table.

  I’d invited her last weekend when she’d asked what our plans were, and had said her dad was working. There was no hesitation in her answer, and she’d immediately accosted Mom with inquiries about what to bring.

  We’d never really done a lot for Christmas, being that it used to only be the two of us. However, Daphne was a woman not to be trifled with. She’d made grocery lists and left school early the day before Christmas Eve to ensure she had time to visit other shops. In case places had sold out of things, she’d said.

  Lunch in our stomachs and Lily asleep on Daphne’s lap with gravy stuck to her cheeks, we settled into the living room, where Mom handed Daphne some gifts from her and Denham.

  Books and stationery mostly, but it was enough to have Daphne practically glowing as she sorted through them.

  Denham asked her about college, and Daphne filled him
in on some of the classes she’d been taking and the professors. Art history being her favorite.

  For long minutes, I stared at the now bare space beneath the tree, berating myself over why I hadn’t asked her all that much about school. I knew why, but it didn’t make me feel like less of an asshole.

  Daphne bumped my shoulder with a purple, square-wrapped present.

  I took it and handed her the one Lily and myself had gotten her.

  Well, just me. It was a picture of them I’d drawn from the weekend Daphne had taken Lily shopping, and I’d come home to find them sitting among piles of clothing. Mostly for Lily, though I did see some panties and bras that had my curiosity piquing.

  Lily had been between her legs as Daphne removed the tags and handed the clothes to Lily, who’d then thrown them into a pile, thinking she was helping.

  The picture was the moment they’d both realized I’d been watching and looked up with matching mischievous smiles.

  I’d framed it with a gloss black frame and kept the drawing black and white.

  Daphne was all wet eyes and croaked thank yous as she failed to remove her gaze from it and swiped at her nose, careful not to jostle Lily.

  Dragging my unwilling eyes from her, I opened the present she’d given me and damn near started crying myself.

  “Your mom helped me gather all the photos.”

  “I didn’t know you still did this,” I said, my voice betraying me as I swept my fingers over the second page. On it sat a photo of Lily as a newborn, asleep on my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin, and around it was artwork I’d done in high school. Stuff I’d drawn for the fuck of it during art class, or in any class, that’d been locked away in the many sketchpads and folders in the top of my closet.

  “I hope it’s okay,” Daphne said. “That I, um, used your work like that. I just thought it would be fitting.” I looked over at her as she grinned down at Lily. “All your works of art.”

  I blinked away the emotion stealing into my eyes and nodded. “Of course, yeah.”

  Giving my attention back to the scrapbook, I flipped through pages and pages of carefully cut out artwork and carefully placed pictures of my daughter and Mom but no Daphne.