by Xavier Neal
“Legs,” I greet her as her smooth legs inch up the side of my t-shirt.
“Sorry I missed your fight.” Her bottom lip pops out. “And it was the cowboy theme too! You know how good my legs look in cowgirl boots.”
“As good as your ass does in a pair of tight jean cut-offs.” I keep my hands dangling at my sides.
Why is it I don’t have any desire to touch her? I mean none. My dick hasn’t even twitched. Is it bad I want her off my fucking lap?
“And it looks damn good, baby.” She giggles and tosses her head back, a trick that she uses to entice me into wanting her in bed.
Once upon a fucking time it would’ve worked. But thanks to Maxx, nothing seems to be fucking working. NO! I’m not gonna try to talk to her. She made her choice. Loud and fucking clear.
“Dean.” I lean around her. “This is Liz. Liz meet the Kid.”
She unwraps herself and spins around, remaining in my lap. “Hey!”
“Hi…” His voice sounds like he’s shrinking back into his shell.
I used to do that too when someone I didn’t think I could trust came around. My voice would change. My body would shift. My eyes would gloss over. And if you take a good look at the Kid now, you’ll see he’s clutching his cup tightly, and that he’s sunk lower in that chair.
“Never seen you around.” She leans back against me, the smell of fruit coming from her hair.
I hate it. I don’t fucking like tropical fruit. Why would I want kiwi or bananas or whatever the fuck is radiating off her hair in my face? She smells nothing like Maxx. Fuck, why can’t I just let her go? Oh right…because she’s the only girl I’ve ever loved. Good point.
“He’s new,” I sigh, and she glances over her shoulder at me.
“So…” she whispers, “busy tonight?”
“Yup.”
Liz lifts her blue eyes to the sky as if thinking about something.
Highly doubt it. I can name the intelligent things I’ve heard her say on one hand and still have three fingers left over.
“Tomorrow night?”
The correct answer should be I’m always busy from now on…but that wouldn’t help me get over Maxx now would it? Best way to get over one girl is to have another one on top.
“Maybe. I’ll text you.” I bounce her body off my lap and she pops up, her name being called from the doorway inside.
“Promise…” She backs away slowly, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jean skirt.
“Unbreakable doesn’t do promises, baby.” I wink before she giggles and strolls away to meet her friends.
“Is her IQ any higher than my age?” Dean asks, pondering the last of his burger.
For the first time this afternoon, I let out a genuine laugh and he joins in.
It’s alright for you to join us. Not sure how many more laughs I’m actually gonna get now.
CHAPTER 3
MAXX
My eyes blink once. Twice. Three. Four more times in an attempt to make the tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, Barbie doll figured woman in front of me disappear.
Yes. I know you’re wondering what most people do. How is that my mother? Well I’m not sure I even fucking know. I got her hair color and that’s about it. She’s not actually blonde. Well, she is now. She was born, and was as far as I had known my entire life, a brunette. My skin tone is a mix of both my parents. I got my dad’s eyes, the curvy nature that runs on his side of the family, and even his crazy mole patterns. She…she donated her hair color and about ten years of her life. That’s all.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” she encourages me, her hands on her hips that are covered in a tight, red pencil skirt.
Well, what do you know? The devil really does wear Prada. Or maybe that’s Gucci.
“Maxx,” Aunt Caroline pushes.
I cut my eyes to my aunt and then back to the blonde woman who refers to herself as my mother. A short exhale comes out of me, but no words.
What the hell am I supposed to say? Thanks for running out on me as a child, and for leaving me with so many emotional scars that I’m not sure how I turned out as close to normal as I did?
“Maxx, why don’t you go wash up?” Uncle Mike suggests hoping to break the staring contest.
“And meet us at the dinner table,” my aunt says softly.
With a short nod, I move towards the left and head past the living room, down the hall straight towards the guest bathroom. Inside, I lock the door and rinse my face, hoping that it will erase most of the nightmare I have managed to fall into.
First Logan, now this? All my dreams come true one day only to wake up in a walking horror movie the next. What did I do to piss off the Universe? Did I eat the last box of chocolate Cheerios? Did I forget to record Sons of Anarchy for it?
After drying my face and hands on the towel, I leave the bathroom and relocate to the table at the dining nook, which branches off of the kitchen. The layout of this house, which I grew up in for the second part of my life, has always made it feel huge. The way the office is branched off from the entry hallway. The way the living room is dead ahead from the front door. Then there’s the way the living room and kitchen are openly connected. And with my old room right on the side of the living room, across from the tiny guest bathroom that is under the stairs, it gave a feeling of spaciousness. Yet today, it feels dollhouse-sized. Borderline claustrophobic.
I sit down at the brown wooden table, where my aunt and uncle are seated at the ends and the plastic woman is settled across from me. Picking up my fork as Uncle Mike does, I stare down at my food hoping that if I can just make it through this meal I’ll never have to see this woman again.
What? You can’t possibly think I’m wrong for not wanting to see her. And if you do, then maybe you need a minute to reflect and remember how she abandoned me. Let me give you a moment. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
“So Maxx,” her voice calls to me forcing my eyes up. She swishes around the wine in her glass.
She reminds me of a blonde Cruella De Ville. Does that make me a puppy?
“How have you been?”
“Alive.” My comment gets a short laugh from my Uncle Mike and a glare from my Aunt Caroline.
Judging by the way they’re acting, something tells me they are divided on the subject of bringing Lucifer into their home. I don’t know what there is to argue about. This creature shouldn’t be here.
“Well I can see that,” she says with sass in her voice. “I mean, how are you? I haven’t seen you in…well in—”
“In 15 years.” I finish the sentence for her while pushing around the pasta on my plate, still not taking a bite.
“Yes in…quite some time.”
“That’s a little more than quite some time.”
“Sure. You could almost say it’s been—”
“More than a decade.”
“Fine. I haven’t seen you in more than a decade.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Maxx!” Aunt Caroline hisses.
I bite my tongue.
You were thinking it too.
“Maxx,” the demon woman begins again after having a sip of her dark red wine.
You know I’m not a big drinker, right? All I want right now is a round of shots lined up for me to kick back until I blackout. You in? Tequila? Rum? Vod—
“You can’t possibly blame me for leaving, can you?”
There’s a long exhale from my Uncle Mike as my face crinkles with rage. “I can’t blame you for leaving?”
“You really can’t. You have no idea how hard it was that last year with your father—”
“I have no idea?!”
“You wouldn’t understand what it was like having to deal with that—”
“Was I not there?”
The label whore continues as if I haven’t said anything. “And you know what, after all that, I deserved another chance at life. I needed to be free. I needed a new start—”
“You’ve got be s
hitting me.”
“Language!” Aunt Caroline fusses again.
With all that’s running through my head, she’s lucky that was the phrase that came out.
“I know it’s difficult for you to understand, Maxx, but I did what was best for me.”
“You know what?” I drop my fork that has yet to pick up a piece of food. “Here’s what I know. If some day, the universe decides to spite me more than it already has lately, and deliver a child into my care, I know that what I want won’t matter anymore. What’s best for the child will matter. Because real parents know that it’s not about you anymore when kids come into your life. It’s about them.”
“Amen,” Uncle Mike mumbles through a mouthful of garlic bread.
It’s nice to see his appetite hasn’t been affected by the blasphemy sitting at the table. Then again aren’t I usually the same way?
She pushes her blonde hair out of her face. “I’ve tried to be a part of your life, Maxx.”
My lips press together.
I really don’t wanna piss off my aunt anymore, but what did she expect? That I would hold my arms out for this stranger and welcome her like nothing ever happened? That I would shower her in praise and kisses like some sort of 90s afterschool T.V. special? I know my Aunt Caroline is sweet and forgiving like a small child, but she had to know this wasn’t gonna pan out well.
“I had your aunt send me photos of your homecomings and your proms.”
“Both emotional disappointments. Like you.”
“Maxx!” Aunt Caroline shrieks.
Damn it. You were supposed to remind me!
As if she’s heard nothing I’ve said she continues. “I even tried to connect with you on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.”
“Forgive me for not wanting to socialize with you via the internet.” My jeer is followed by me finally taking a bite of the pasta that is now lukewarm.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate cold food that isn’t meant to be eaten cold? Don’t you dare say lukewarm isn’t cold. It is. It is! We will finish this discussion at a later time.
“Your aunt mentioned you were living with some friends. Erin, Luke, and I think…Logan was the other name?”
Just the sound of his name causes me to drop my fork on the table again. With a quick snap of my head towards my aunt I gripe, “What did you do? Send her my biography?”
“Maxx.” Aunt Caroline’s delicate tone matches the gentle tough of her hand on mine.
“Was it color coded and highlighted with the big events, like when I first kissed a boy and when I got my period!?”
Calmly she tries again. “Maxx…”
“Did you remember to add the footnotes at the bottom with my GPA?”
With a squeeze of my hand she sighs. “Stop, mi amor, she’s your mother—”
“No.” I cut her off. “You, Aunt Caroline, have been more of a mother to me than she ever has.”
“Excuse me?” the woman squeaks.
She sounds like a dog toy that’s broken.
“You heard me.” I stand my ground. “In fact, let me be completely honest. Even when dad was alive, you weren’t a very good mom.”
“You just say that because you were a daddy’s girl—”
“There was a reason for that,” I clarify.
“So…” Uncle Mike joins the conversation picking up his beer. “What brings you to town, Britt?”
“Oh a little vacation. A little sightseeing, a little shopping—”
“Did they run out of stores in Europe?” I smirk, picking at my garlic bread as my uncle chuckles.
“And.” She clears her throat to make an announcement. “I have some news.”
Finally! The real reason Satan has come out from the depths of Hell to walk among those of us with souls. Yeah, I’m a little more than bitter, and a little more than angry, but seriously…wouldn’t you be?
“Do tell.” Uncle Mike pushes the subject.
“Well, as you know, I married Brod shortly after we left.”
What kind of nickname is Brod anyway? Sounds like an annoying sound an animal makes.
“A few years after we got married, we had a son. His name is Wilfred.” My vocal chords seem to have been severed. “And they are both here in town with me. I would love for you to meet them.”
Somehow I manage to stand up. “I have to go.”
“You can’t leave, Maxx.” Uncle Mike wipes his hands.
“I damn sure can’t stay!”
“Maxx,” his stern voice warns.
“Uncle—”
“Look at your hands,” he says, and I do automatically since I’ve never been good at defying his words. They’re shaking badly. “You are in no condition to drive. And I don’t wanna lose a daughter. Go to your room.”
“You can’t ground me, Uncle Mike! I’m 25!”
“Go.” His eyes look up to meet mine, seriousness the only emotion I can see in them.
Without another word, I rush out of the kitchen and to my room, slamming the door shut. As soon as I’m inside I feel like I’m 15 all over again. My eyes immediately roam to the window that Logan used to climb into every couple of nights.
Wow. What does that say about me? My life is literally being dumped upside down and my brain instantly goes to fucking Logan. To be fair, as much as I was his saving grace from his shit life, he was mine too. If anything major would’ve happened back then, he would’ve been through that window in record timing and right beside me where I needed him. I need him now.
I run a hand over the top of my head, down over my ponytail, and look around the room that is still frozen like a highlight of my youth. The music posters on the wall next to the framed book posters, the baby blue and pink polka dot comforter, the flat screen T.V. on the pink and blue striped accent wall.
Still can’t believe Aunt Caroline let me paint the wall that way. I was going through a phase! Something about the pink and blue together. Erin advised and advised against it. Told me it looked like a baby’s nursery threw up. And Logan, well, he helped me paint the wall. He said that the blue in the room made it half his.
Flopping down on my bed, I rest my head against the pillows and cradle the stuffed Mickey Mouse my Uncle Mike brought me from his first business trip right after Dad died and the devil woman had left.
There are two sharp knocks at the door.
I shut my eyes tightly and yell, “If it’s the Wicked Witch of the East, go away! I prefer when a house is dropped on you!”
The sound of the door forces my eyes back open to see my uncle’s face peering around it. “Can I come in, Short Stack?”
I do my best to battle the smile that wants to come on my face and nod.
Uncle Mike’s nickname is the same one that my dad used to call me. They both loved to take me for pancake dates. Just the two of us. Dad used to put chocolate chips and sprinkles on his while Uncle Mike covered his in chocolate chips and nuts.
“I brought you something.” He attempts to sound cheerful.
“Is it a magic wand to rid us of the anomaly in the house?”
“Better.” He reveals a cupcake from behind his back. With a grin, he sits on the edge of the bed beside me. “Do you remember what your father used to say?”
My eyes watch him break the cupcake apart. “When you love someone, you always give them more than you keep for yourself. Then he’d break it apart and give me the larger piece.”
Uncle Mike hands me the larger portion and kisses me on the forehead. “You know I love you, Maxx.”
“I know.” I whisper before shoving the entire piece in my mouth.
Don’t judge me right now. I’m sure I look like a toddler at a birthday party with the way the frosting is smeared on my face, but what do you want from me? My life is in shambles! I can eat like it too!
“And I know we don’t talk about your dad much—”
“Don’t.” I shake my head and lick the frosting off my lips. “Don’t apologize for that.”
He
nods and the room goes silent. After a good scratch of his faint beard he sighs. “Wanna watch a movie?”
Quickly I nod. “Have you seen the new Star Trek?”
“Into the Darkness? That hardly qualifies as new anymore.”
Giggling, I scoot over on my bed to make room for him. “Well not all of us went to the theatres to see it ‘cause we’re Trekkies.”
“You know your father was a Trekky. Had a tattoo and everything.” Uncle Mike grabs the remote and turns the T.V. on. “That’s where you get that whole nerd thing from, you know?”
I shoot him a look. “Right. And you’re not a nerd at all, Uncle Mike?”
“Nope.”
“So that Star Wars tatt of Princess Leia in the gold bikini on your right calf is—”
“A declaration of my independence from my parents.” he insists in a playful tone, turning on the movie channel.
For the first time today I feel a small ease. It’s not huge. It’s not even enough to undo any of the psychological damage I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, but it’s enough that I can finally breathe.
And if this is the only minute I fucking get today to breathe, can I just say, I’m glad you’re here with me. I mean, I know I was a bit hostile earlier, given the circumstances, but at least I know I can trust you. And I feel a little safer knowing you’ll keep all my secrets.