Beast: An Anthology

by Amanda Richardson

  “Mom!” Gus’ voice carries threw the hallway, breaking us apart at lightning speed.

  “Some of those machines are so cool,” he exclaims, running back into the room.

  My hands clench at my hips and I look away. Gus comes to stand between us, begging for his mother’s attention.

  “Are they?” she asks, refocusing her attention on him. “Well it’s a good thing Louis took the time to show you. Did you thank him?”

  Gus tilts his head and looks just past his mother. “Thanks, Louis.”

  “We should go, no? Papa is waiting,” she says, brushing his wavy hair back with her fingers.

  Papa?

  Amelie notices my reaction to the word. Even after the realizations I had, the conclusion I should walk away and leave this family with a fighting chance—a hopeful chance, jealousy burns inside, strong enough to mark my skin all over.

  “Gus’ grand-father,” she finally explains. “He’s come to visit from Paris.”

  I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter to me who Papa is. But I can’t ignore the release of tension in my shoulders in reaction to her words.

  “It was nice seeing you again,” her eyes blink slowly, controlled. Nothing at all like the turmoil happening inside of me.

  Breathing comes on harder and I have to muster all my self-control not to let it show. I nod my head once, placing my hands in my pockets and fisting them tightly, out of sight.

  We’ve hardly spoken. This is only our second meeting, and yet, she’s somehow flipped everything I’ve been feeling, everything I thought I knew about myself upside down. And I can’t let that continue.

  I watch Amelie and Gus leave, relieved for the space but all too quickly feeling alone once again.

  Pull it together, Adam.

  Remember why you’re here. To mend the outside. The physical. The scars that have built themselves on my skin.

  The inside…is not a priority.

  Not right now.

  A distraction, no matter how beautiful, how sexy, how French, is a road block. And I already have too many standing in my way.

  I turn my gaze to Louis who has been watching me all along. Studying me. Seemingly able to follow my exact train of thought.

  And he looks…disappointed.

  “What?” I challenge, angry at myself that I still seem to care about his opinion. “I’m here for me,” I argue. “The work I put in is for me. The goals we set are for me. I’m entitled to that.”

  I. Am. Entitled.

  Louis says nothing. Only blinking several times before nodding once. And for some reason, his silence feels harsher than any words I could imagine him saying.

  “Then let’s go to work and find what you’re so entitled to.”

  He turns and heads to the workout room, leaving me behind with my sense of entitlement. It starts to creep itself around me, only not in a comforting way. Instead, it feels like I’m now suffocating in it.

  TWO WEEKS GO by before I’m back at physio. Two weeks where I didn’t allow myself to think about her, or him, or anything else that didn’t get me where I need to be. I ignored the loneliness, turned my back on curiosity, and kept myself confined within the walls I created months ago.

  It crumbles the instant I step into the reception area.

  Wearing the blouse with the red rose petals, her hair in long waves, I now see where Gus gets his curls from. Her pink lips move as she reads over more brochures where she sits. When her focus shifts from the pamphlets in her hands to me, her lips still, as do her eyes.

  It feels like an eternity but it all happens so quickly. Her mouth curling into a smile—one I know I’ve been waiting weeks to see again. And with that realization, I feel the promises I told myself start to be forgotten. I feel my walls begin to crack, my feet leading me away from everything I told myself I needed, and closer to something I didn’t think I wanted.

  I sit in the chair beside her, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure she can hear it.

  “Hello, Adam.”

  The sound of those words burn my skin. I want to claw at it, tear it open just to make the scorch a little more bearable. But even if I could, it would just find another spot, another place to mark, to singe.

  “Amelie,” my voice faltering slightly.

  Her eyes smile as her lips do. “With an A,” she teases. “You remembered.”

  I tried so hard to forget.

  I swallow, my eyes quickly scanning across the room.

  “Where’s Gus—”

  “Adam, I wanted to apologize—”

  We speak simultaneously but I’m immediately taken aback by her words.

  Apologize?

  To me?

  “What for?” I ask, confused.

  “The last time we spoke,” she starts.

  The only time we spoke.

  “I believe I may have overstepped,” she continues.

  She brushes her hair behind her ear and I can’t help but stare at the spot right below her earlobe. I’ve always loved the softness and smoothness of a woman’s neck. I could never stop myself from inhaling, kissing, tasting that spot. And Amelie’s looks the smoothest and softest of any I’ve ever seen.

  Quickly, I divert my eyes back to hers, my body too quickly getting wound up being this close.

  “Overstepped?”

  She nods. “Telling you about how much Gus looks up to you. It was unfair. You have your own recovery to concentrate on. And me imposing Gaston’s...” she pauses, needing time to find the right word, “his admiration for you,” settling on her word of choice, “I took advantage. I must apologize.”

  I sit and stare at her for a moment. I watch as emotions I can’t discern flash in her eyes. Little mysteries as to what she’s thinking unexplained.

  “Amelie—”

  “It’s just that,” she ignores me, “Gaston doesn’t have a man in his life he can look up to. A man who understands what he is going through. I try,” she picks up the pile of discarded pamphlets from the chair next to her. “I read and I read and I try to understand. But how can I? How can I understand when my own feelings overshadow everything else?”

  My heart begins to beat erratically. “What do you feel?”

  She looks at me and finally I can discern an emotion. Only I wish I hadn’t.

  Panic.

  “I’m terrified he’ll let his scars define him. That he’ll forget who he was underneath them. Who he still is.”

  Her words awake my own feelings—ones I’ve been trying to avoid but constantly think about. Feelings I’ve been running both to and from since my accident.

  Who am I?

  Who will I be?

  Who can I be?

  “I so desperately want Gaston to believe that what is reflected on the outside isn’t what needs to be reflected on the inside,” she says. “I know that seems silly…with all the surgeries I’m about to put him through.”

  “It’s not,” I cut in. “I understand it. I can understand your need to give him as much of a normal life as possible. I’m sure it’s not easy making all the hard decisions by yourself.”

  She smiles sadly, but there is also relief there. Relief that someone else sees and understands the sacrifices she’s making for her son—for his future.

  As men, we define ourselves by what we can do. But more often than not, it’s by what we can’t or can no longer do that stands out. It’s easy to lose self-worth when those lines get blurred.

  Without any notice or even an ounce of warning, Amelie’s hand reaches up and her fingertips delicately graze my scarred neck. “This in not who you are either,” she says, her voice definite but only loud enough to touch my ears.

  Slowly, my hand reaches up—my immediate reaction to remove her soft touch. But I surprise myself and then her when I slip my fingers between hers and press them harder into my skin.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore,” I admit, honestly. “I’m not the same Adam I was.”

  “Perhaps. But you’re still a man.
A good man,” she states.

  Our eyes lock and the need to be closer still overwhelms me. The urge for more of her touch reminds me of the craving I’ve tried hard to forget.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “A man. But I’m not so sure about the good.”

  She licks her lips and in that moment, I feel like nothing would or could stop me from kissing her. Nothing would or could stop me from taking her in my arms and burying my face into the curve of her neck. Inhaling her scent, tasting her skin.

  I was a fool to think I could live a life without this feeling. This want.

  “Amelie,” I whisper.

  She opens to her mouth just a fraction—but enough to let me know it’s an invitation. And not one I want to turn down. Not this time. I drop my head, ready to take her lips and forget anything and everything else. Forget who we are and why we are here. Today, instead of getting all wrapped up in who I am or who I’ve become, I want to get wrapped up in who she thinks I could be. Just as I’m about to take what I want, the door to the workout room opens, and Gus’ loud, booming voice fills the room.

  We instantly break apart—like a couple of teenagers caught with the lights off in our parent’s house. I move quickly on rearranging the crotch of my pants, embarrassed at how quick she is able to affect me. I take a deep breath while Amelie stands, blocking me from view.

  “Hey, Adam,” Gus says, his mother’s attempt to shield me failing miserably.

  “Hey, kid,” I smile tightly, tempering my hard on before I stand.

  Thankfully, he’s too oblivious to notice.

  “How was today?” Amelie asks, dropping down to Gus’ level. Unfortunately for me, that leaves her jean clad ass directly in my line of sight, not helping my current situation.

  Gus’ face falls, disappointment clearly evident. “You were right,” he starts. “Louis says it’s too soon.”

  Amelie’s head tilts to the side in a sympathetic gesture. “I’m sorry, Mon Cheri,”

  Gus’ disappointment is too much to for him to even notice another one of his mother’s nickname. And if he isn’t making a deal out of that, he must really be upset.

  “What’s the problem, kid?” I ask, finally able to stand.

  “Today’s our first game,” he looks up at me. “I can’t play.”

  Baseball season. Division two.

  Amelie turns her head and looks up at me. “We can’t risk him getting hurt. Not before surgery,” she explains.

  I nod, understanding.

  “And I won’t be able to play after surgery either,” Gus states, sadly. “The whole season will be over before I can even play.”

  His disappointment feels like a punch to the gut. And with everything he’s been through, still, his only desire is to be with his friends on the field.

  “You should go to the game,” I say.

  “But everyone said I can’t play,” he argues, looking over to Amelie.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t go and be part of the team. Take a seat on the bench. Be the backbone.”

  “What’s the point in that?”

  My eyes flicker from Gus back to Amelie. Her earlier words flood my mind.

  “Because you are still the same player. And your teammates still need you. A team is nothing without its backbone.”

  Amelie smiles at me before turning back towards Gus. “Would you like that? We could go and watch. I’ll help you cheer,” she offers, excited at the prospect of Gus being a part of his team, even if it is in a different capacity.

  Gus’ eyes come up to meet mine. “Will you come, too?” he asks me.

  The invite I was not expecting. And judging by the way Amelie is reacting to my surprised expression, I didn’t hide it well either.

  “Cheri, I’m sure Adam has things he needs to do—” she begins, offering me an out.

  An out I once wanted. An out I’m not so sure about anymore.

  “Sure, kid,” I hear myself say.

  Amelie looks my way, and for the second time today, I’m able to discern another emotion in her eyes. One I want to see over and over again.

  Joy.

  “Awesome!” Gus exclaims. “We play at Dunmore Field. Six o’clock, right Mom?”

  She looks back at Gus, her smile wide at his excitement. “Right, Cheri.”

  “Cool! Let’s go get ready. I want to wear my uniform!” He grabs Amelie’s hand and nearly pulls her out the door. Too fast for her to say anything else, too quick to give what happened between us any more attention. But the last look we give each other tells us that we won’t forget it either.

  Once they’re out the door, I turn and I’m faced with Louis and that shit-eating grin again.

  “Don’t start,” I threaten.

  “Start what?” his eyes flare in amusement.

  “It’s nothing,” I lie. “Let’s just forget it.”

  Louis presses his lips together and nods, trying to hold in his laughter—and failing.

  “What?” I seethe. “What’s so funny?”

  His laughter subsides as he folds his arms over his chest. “I just thought it would be the woman to remind you of who you are. I was wrong.”

  My eyes narrow, not following.

  “It was the boy,” he explains. “All it took was a boy who needed a hero to remind you of something very important.”

  “And what’s that,” I ask, feigning mild interested.

  “That you are one.”

  AFTER FINDING A place to park not far from the field, I make my way over to the baseball diamond. I can hear the screaming and the cheering getting louder and louder with every step. Parents clapping and cheering with every ding of the ball hitting the bat.

  Fuck. The game has started already.

  I look down at my hand, at the reason for my lateness.

  I stop midstride, suddenly feeling nervous. And incredibly stupid.

  This isn’t a date.

  I’m here to watch ten year olds play baseball. I’m here to cheer on a boy who probably needs it more than any other player on this field, and he won’t even get a chance at the plate. But when I see her sitting up in the stands, sunglasses shading her beautiful eyes, clapping along with all the other parent’s in the crowd, I know it’s not the only reason.

  Amelie sees me as I climb up the bleachers. Even though her eyes are covered, I can sense she’s staring at what’s in my hand. I don’t say a word when I hand her the single red rose.

  She accepts it with a simple smile, but one that screams a thousand words. A thousand words only we can hear.

  I take my seat beside her, removing my hood. And when I sit, I purposefully brush our legs together. I’m relieved when she doesn’t move to separate them.

  “How are we doing?” I ask.

  “Terrible,” she answers proudly. “We are already losing. But look at him,” she nods towards Gus in the dugout, all decked out in his uniform, talking and laughing with his teammates. “He hasn’t stopped smiling.”

  A warm feeling I don’t recognize rushes through me.

  “You did this,” she states, gratefully.

  I shake my head in disagreement, but I don’t pursue the argument any further. I choose to enjoy the moment instead.

  “Thank you for the rose,” Amelie says quietly, holding the long stem out in front of us, the deep red of the petals amplified by the light of the setting sun.

  “It matched your shirt,” I say, looking back out to the field. But out of the corner of my eye, I see one petal fall, floating slowly to the ground. We both watch as the petal lands on the green grass beneath us.

  “Only that one,” she says, examining the rose. “The rest are…perfect.”

  I nod and look back out to the field. I can’t see her but I know she’s smiling. Most likely biting her lip, too. I know this, because I know the affect I used to have on beautiful women. The affect a man has on a beautiful woman.

  I may not be the hero Gus or Louis have declared me to be. I may not be the Prince Charming Amelie may hav
e made me out to be. Maybe I’m not even the Beast I made myself out to be. Today, for the first time in a long time, I feel like Adam. I feel like a man. And when Amelie’s hand slowly makes its way to my knee and stays there, I know that I can still be a man who affects a beautiful woman.

  The End.

  Caroline Nolan writes stories about love and all the beauty and ugliness that comes along with it. She lives in Toronto with her husband and their fur baby. She is currently working on her third novel which is still untitled.

  Other Works by Caroline Nolan

  This Is Love

  “This Is Love is an AMAZING debut novel that is wonderfully unique and spellbindingly beautiful. Readers looking for an epic love, that is flawless in both the written word and the characters created; a real gem that embeds itself into your heart and soul, should pick up this book. I promise that it is one that will stick with you for a long time to come.” ~ Shh Moms Reading

  “Caroline Nolan wrote this with such an exquisite, gentle touch; it left me so happy, my heart completely overflowing and a giant smile on my face. If you’re looking for a breathtaking, stunning story about loss, healing, hope and the capacity of the heart to love limitlessly—THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED!” ~ Give Me Books

  “I had no idea what to expect when I started reading this book… I hadn’t even read the blurb. But from the first sentence, I was hooked. I devoured every page like I was starving.” ~ Cover to Cover Book Blog

  Everything Unexpected

  “Have you read one of those books that just make your heart happy? Everything Unexpected was just that.” ~ Beneath the Covers Book Blog

  “Everything Unexpected is a bit different from her first novel but that’s what I loved. This is a friends to lover’s romance but I think with a bit of a twist. It was a sweet and fun read.” ~ Three Chicks and Their Books

  “Everything Unexpected is a sweet best friends-to-lovers story, with its fair share of heat and angst. I enjoyed watching them find their way and figure out what is most important to them. I laughed, smiled, teared up a little, and straight out gushed!” ~ Of Pens and Pages Book Blog