Sing Me to Sleep

by Angela Morrison

  I see Mom.

  Her hazel eyes water. Her graying brown hair sticks to the sides of her face.

  Crap. I can’t do this now.

  I fall into her arms, and she starts to sob.

  “Stop it, Mom.” I pat her back, fight to keep myself from dissolving like she is. “My life is great.” I’ve got a huge lump in my throat that makes me croak the words. I sniff and give her a little shake by the shoulders. “I mean it.”

  “Oh, honey, you need to face this.”

  No. No. No. I’ve figured out how to escape it. Derek.

  I got him online in Chicago. We’ve worked out a plan. Every morning, 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. Swiss time, is mine. That’s two in the morning for me. I glance at my watch. I don’t have a clue when I last reset it. “What time is it, Mom?”

  “Half past midnight.”

  “Great—we’re going to make it.”

  “Make what?”

  All the way home she gets the gushy Derek dish—as much as I dare tell her. None of the private stuff, or my suspicions about his drug habit. She’d go ballistic. “You’re going to love him. I can’t wait for you to meet.”

  She smiles at me and nods along as she focuses on the road. “I saw Scott at the Save-A-Lot. He mentioned he’s got something for you.”

  Scott? The prom. How badly I wanted to kiss him that night. It all rushes back in HD-quality vision. But, I’ve got Derek now. I’m safe. Scott and I can be friends again.

  I’m too tired to carry my suitcase up to my room.

  “Just leave it, Beth. Get some rest.”

  I kiss Mom good night. “I’m okay.” I look at her, and she gets what I’m talking about. “Let’s not make it a big deal.”

  She shakes her head.

  I haul my tired butt up the stairs. My alarm clock reads 1:50 a.m. Ten minutes. I fall into the shower and throw on a fresh nightshirt. Clean feels delicious. I can’t remember when I showered last.

  I sign on. Derek’s there, waiting. Early. That’s delicious, too.

  Derek: where are you?

  Beth: home

  Derek: you should go to bed

  Beth: I need to talk to my new boyfriend

  I send it before I realize what I wrote. Boyfriend? I wanted him to say it first. Thirty plus hours of travel will do that to you.

  Derek: about time you owned me

  Beth: you’ve never said it to me

  Derek: uh-huh . . . three times.

  Like I would have missed that. I yawn and shake it off while I type.

  Beth: you are delusional

  Derek: girlfriend . . . girlfriend . . . girlfriend

  Beth: now I can sleep

  I stretch and yawn, get ready to sign off. I’m not sure what to write. I don’t know how he’ll respond if I go on the gush side. I feel overheated, romantic, and so into him even though he’s so far away right now.

  Derek: you’re not going to grill me again over my plans for today?

  Beth: I don’t want to have nightmares

  Derek: my poor little Beth . . . relax . . . we decided to take it easy

  Beth: good

  Derek: we rented mountain bikes and took them on the train up a mountain . . . a small one . . . we’re in a wired café having that fried potato stuff with eggs and cheese and ham all over it . . . it’s pouring out

  I take a perverse delight in Derek’s ruined day. Good. He won’t be able to risk breaking that neck I left my imprint on. I’m hungry for it again. These two weeks are going to be way too long. I’m major possessive.

  Beth: rain? YES . . . we can chat longer

  Derek: the guys are done . . . I gotta go

  Beth: INSERT BLOODCURDLING SCREAM HERE

  Derek: get some rest . . . girlfriend

  Beth: what about your cold? don’t make it worse

  He’s gone. Definitely no gush. I fall on my bed, imagine him riding a mountain bike full tilt down a mud-slick mountain path. He starts to cough and wipes out. I fall asleep. The vision is worse in my dreams. I’m there riding, too. I wipe out into him—cause the crash. He’s lying in the rocks—bloody, muddy. I crawl over to him, and we get it on in the mud. I wake up way too soon.

  chapter 17

  FRIENDSHIP

  The doorbell rings.

  I roll over, crack an eye at my alarm clock. It’s almost 2:00 p.m. I’ve given in to jet lag. It’s summer. Who cares? It’s been overcast and humid nonstop since I got back to Port. I wish it would just rain already and get it out of its system. I want it to be nice out by the time Derek gets home. I want to get him to the beach, get him some sun, make out in the sand. We’ve never kissed lying down. Or in the water. These past couple weeks I’ve imagined every possible place we could make out. I’ve compiled quite a list.

  Derek was stuck in the Amsterdam airport last night. We chatted until almost 4:00 a.m. my time. Then he got on a plane. I didn’t have the guts to tell him about the list. I’ll show it to him when he gets here.

  The doorbell rings again.

  Crap. How many hours is that? Could it be him?

  I fly out of bed. Sloppy oversize T-shirt. No makeup. Wild hair. Total wreck. Race down the stairs. Throw open the door, and there’s a guy walking away.

  “Hey. Stop. I’m here.”

  He turns around.

  “Scott?” I can feel the flush that’s running up my face.

  “So you are home.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought maybe you’d call.” He takes a step toward me and stops. “I told your mom—”

  “I’ve been out of it. Total jet lag.” And I’ve been avoiding you. Still.

  He nods slowly. “Did I wake you?”

  I realize I’m not dressed for visitors. “Sorry. I must look awful.”

  He eyes my bare legs. “I don’t mind.” He gets his naughty grin on. “Honest.” He walks up the cement path that leads across our scorched lawn to our white-painted porch—still looking at my legs. “It’s nice to see the real you.” A car zooms by behind him.

  “Don’t be morbid.” I slap at a mosquito on my thigh.

  He comes up the porch steps and hands me an envelope. “I brought these—if you still want them.” He’s wearing a short tank top and cutoffs. He must be doing the weightlifting thing with his legs, too. Nice. His neck is even thicker now. And I can see real abs beginning to form on his stomach. And those shoulder muscles are even more defined.

  I take the envelope from him, slide out a dark brown folder, and open it. There’s Scott looking sharp in his black tux with his arms around a tall blonde stranger. “This is me?”

  He nods his head. “One of you.” He stares for a moment. “I think I like this one better.”

  I manage an embarrassed smile. “That was the best night. You were so sweet. Thought of everything.”

  “What did you like best?”

  “The brownies—no, the dancing.” I get redder remembering how we slow danced.

  “Too bad Colby is such a creep.”

  I lean against the doorway with one leg bent up, like a stork. “It did make it exciting.”

  “But we didn’t get to dance again.”

  “That’s right—you owe me a nice long slow dance.” I can say that now. I have Derek. I can tease Scott. We’re friends.

  “Okay.” He doesn’t look at me like a friend. He looks at me like Derek does. He seems taller. Could he finally be growing? And he’s been at the beach. His hair is blonder, and he’s got a great tan. Scott messes with his iPod, moves in really close, hands me an ear bud—the first slow song we danced to plays. He puts the other end in his ear. “Dance with me, Beth.” He smiles like he’s playing around, but the intensity I read deep in the blue of his eyes says something else.

  His arms go around me. He pulls me tight and lays his face on my chest. Shoot, he’s wearing that same aftershave he had on prom night. I can’t resist touching his shoulders. His bare leg brushes mine while we move to the music.

  I close my eyes,
and the lyrics take me back to that night:Remember when you first held me?

  And I believed love could be?

  Your lips awoke my senses.

  You melted my defenses.

  “You need to tell me something, Bethie.” Scott raises his face. “I’ll never bug you about it again, but it’s driving me crazy. Promise you won’t get mad?”

  “At you? I’m never mad at you.” I stroke his head like at prom. Derek won’t mind. Scott’s my friend.

  “Why didn’t you let me kiss you good night? One kiss. What’s so awful?”

  Man, it’s hot out. Sticky. “You wanted to kiss me?” I really need a fan. How can he still do this to me? I have a boyfriend. I’m not starving anymore.

  “Wasn’t that obvious? Why did you run like that?”

  I don’t answer. Whispers of the words I wrote after my escape float through my memory.

  Can’t you see how much you have changed?

  Frightened to move? Yeah, I’m the same.

  Insides yearning—can I walk away again?

  “Bethie?” Scott stops moving and takes me by the shoulders. The little boy is gone from his face. He’s a full-fledged guy—not cute anymore. He’s handsome.

  I bend down and whisper, “I thought it would gross you out.” It feels good to finally say it. “All night I wanted to attack you.”

  “Attack me?”

  I nod. I need to let go of him—get away from his mouth too close to mine. And those shoulders. I need to run from those shoulders.

  “I don’t understand.” His voice is low—sexy—irresistible. “Do you think you can show me?” He closes his eyes and presses upward on his toes, reaching his lips to meet mine.

  I forget everything. We’re back at the prom. He wants me. He always wanted me—even when I was ugly. He’s not grossed out. He’s turned on. I inhale him, clutch his shoulders, close my eyes, and let my lips brush his.

  Could you want me? If it’s a joke,

  Please don’t haunt me—dreams in smoke.

  Crap. I’m kissing my best friend.

  And he kisses me back. Major kisses me back. It’s not smooth and tender like Derek. Scott’s lips are hard on mine—way intense. Too much teeth. But I ache for more when he finally releases me.

  He traces my lips with his fingers. “Virgin lips meet virgin lips. I’ve been waiting since fourth grade to do that.”

  I bend my head to kiss him again and then pull back with a start. Derek. I have to tell Scott. I try to start, but he meets my mouth more than halfway. He’s better at it this time. I try to push him off, but he fights back, presses his body to mine. I stop resisting. Get way too into it.

  He finally lets me loose.

  “Scott, Scottie.” I’m breathless from kissing him and feeling so bad at what I’m going to say. “We need to stop this.”

  He smiles and hugs me. “Yeah. I had late lunch break. I gotta get back. But I’m off at five. I’ll come over, and we can do that some more. Maybe it won’t rain, and we can go to the beach.”

  “Just shut up a minute. My lips—aren’t—virgin lips.”

  “Not anymore.” He tries to kiss me again, but I pull back this time, pull his arms off so he’s not holding me.

  “I met a guy at the Choral Olympics.”

  “Wait. What?” He grabs me by the shoulders and glares. “What happened? What are you saying?”

  I shrink back from him. “I got some bad news. He was sweet and . . . it just happened.”

  “But I’m your—”

  “Friend.”

  “No. Beth. No. Not anymore. I’m sick of that. I’ve loved you forever. This creep—whoever he is—doesn’t care about the real Beth. Not like I do. You don’t have to fake it with me. I want to be your boyfriend. You want it, too. I can tell.” His hands slip from my shoulders to my back, and he draws me closer.

  “But what about—”

  “I don’t care if you kissed a thousand guys in Switzerland.” He starts to lay his face down on my shoulder but jerks back up. “That’s all you did with him, right?”

  “Scott! ”

  “It doesn’t matter.” His arms tighten around me—brick hard. “Right now it’s you and me. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. It’s always been you and me. It’s just taken us a while to grow into this part of it.” He kisses me, and he’s got so much love on his lips that it makes me cry.

  I pull away from his mouth, sniff, and wipe my eyes. “The thing is . . . this guy and I are—” How can I do this to Scott? I have to, though. I’m with Derek. I want to be with Derek.

  “Over. No big deal. I’m not upset.” His arms relax, and one hand moves up to stroke my hair.

  I need to get away from him. We’re both sticky and hot. It’s so gross out. But I can’t let go. I clench my teeth and say, “We’re sort of involved.”

  “Crap, Beth.” Scott’s hand freezes. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m in the middle of this. I care, Scott. I really do, but—”

  My cell phone rings. The sound floats out my bedroom window and coats us. I know it’s Derek. And even with Scott holding me, giving me his heart, a thrill of Derek desire shoots through me.

  Scott looks up, curses. “I’m here, Beth. I’m real. That isn’t.” His mouth is on mine again. Warm. Hungry. So vulnerable.

  But my cell keeps ringing.

  I pull myself free of Scott.

  “Please, Bethie. Don’t.”

  I whisper, “I’m sorry, Scottie,” and race for my cell phone.

  I get to my room too late. I look out at the cracked sidewalk with grass dying in the gaps. Scott’s car is still there. I pull down the window blind. The doorbell rings. I don’t answer.

  I take my cell phone into my bathroom, shut the door and lock it, perch on the seat of my toilet like a giant bird roosting, staring at the phone.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  I’m so stupid. I flip open the phone, pull up the missed call, and hit the green button.

  “Beth?” I close my eyes at the sound of Derek’s voice. “Were you still asleep?”

  I can’t answer. The resonance of what I just did to Scott gets a hold of me.

  “Beth? Are you there?”

  I finally manage a weak, “Where are you?”

  “Waiting for our bags in Toronto.”

  “I can’t believe you got home so fast.” I pick at the last sliver of pink nail polish on my big toe.

  “Direct flight from Schipol.”

  “That isn’t fair.” My voice is too high, wobbles at the end.

  “What’s up? You sound—”

  “We’re on the same continent.” Can he tell what I did?

  “Same time zone.”

  I need to see him. He’ll figure this out. He always knows what to do. “Do you have any nice park benches in London?”

  “I think we can find one.”

  “I really need to be with you again. Something crazy just happened.” I blurt the whole episode with Scott out to him. “I don’t know what got into him. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. I told him all about you. We’ve been friends forever and ever. It’s so weird.”

  Derek doesn’t say anything. Crap. I’m so stupid. Why did I tell him?

  “It’s okay, Beth. I get it. At least I get him.” His voice is smooth and reassuring. He’s not mad at all. Shouldn’t he be a tiny bit mad? “What about you? What do you want?”

  “What do you mean?” I hold myself still as I can and press the phone hard against my ear.

  “I’m glad you have somebody solid like that. Maybe you should dump me. You obviously have feelings for him.”

  “What? Dump you?” I feel dizzy. “For Scott? No. What? No.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I take a deep breath so I don’t fall off the toilet seat. “The only way you can hurt me is to keep talking like this.”

  “Beth, I—”

  “Why are yo
u so understanding?” A hint of suspicion creeps into my voice. “You should be livid. And incredibly jealous.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t jealous.”

  “That girl. That’s it. You want to get back with her. No, Derek. Please. I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re insane.”

  He’s right, but I can’t stop myself. “She wants you back. I know it. Have you seen her yet?” The dizzy returns. I force myself to breathe.

  “At the baggage claim in the airport?”

  “Could happen.”

  “I called you first—even before my mum. I want you, Beth.” His voice goes deep with intensity. “The question is do you want me?”

  “Crap.” I stand and stretch my legs.

  “What now?”

  “That means you’ve got to go. Call your mom, you idiot. Then call me back and tell me you can’t live without me.”

  “I can’t live without you.”

  I’m swirling in Derek deliciousness. “And you’re insanely jealous over Scott?”

  “Insanely. No more getting it on with old kindergarten buddies.”

  “Preschool.” I glance in the mirror. I can be Bliss perfect in an hour.

  “Thanks for telling me. It’s so—”

  “Stupid?” I plug in my hair flattening thing.

  He laughs. “You. No pretense. No games.”

  I turn around and lean against the sink, focus on what he’s saying. “Games? Don’t play them with me. My heart can’t take that.”

  “What can it take?”

  “Seeing you tonight?” If I leave in an hour, I’ll be in London in time to meet his bus home from Toronto.