by LK Collins
She wipes the tears from her eyes, but they won’t stop watering, and it kills me to see her upset. A moment ago everything was fine, and now she’s so upset, and that’s hard to handle. I grip her shoulders rubbing them gently. “It’s okay.”
“I know…it’s…just…when I looked at you sitting there, in Ben’s chair, I…I saw him for a moment and…it fucked me up.”
Hearing her confession comes as a shock, and I don’t quite know how to help her. “Maybe we should go,” I offer. The last thing I want to do is cause her any unwanted stress or for my presence to upset her.
She swallows away the tears, wiping her eyes again. “No, please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods but still won’t look me in the eye. It’s like she’s embarrassed to be emotional in front of me
“It’s okay to cry, Faye. You don’t always have to be so strong.”
She smiles, finally bringing her eyes to mine and I can’t help it. Taking her body, I pull her into a tight hug, holding her closer and tighter to me than ever. She clings to me, and I let her just be because that’s what I want to show her, that she can be any way around me, and no matter what, I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter 9
Faye
“They’re watching the Lego movie,” I tell Thane as I walk out into the garage.
“Again?” he asks, from the top of the ladder installing my new garage door opener.
“Yup, I don’t know how they can do that.”
“What?”
“Watch the same thing over and over again.”
“Didn’t you used to do that when you were a kid?” he asks me.
“No, we didn’t have TV, and my parents were super strict about that sort of stuff.”
“So what did you do with your time?”
“Just played outside with the other kids in the neighborhood.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He seems surprised, but when I was growing up, we were outside from sunup ‘til sundown.
“My parents were totally different. They’re both free birds—we traveled a lot, and when we were home, we did whatever we wanted to,” he says.
“So you have siblings?” I ask him.
“One brother, you?”
“No. I’m an only child. Do you want more kids?” I ask him for some strange reason, and quickly he answers, “Sure, why not. Don’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m damaged enough, and just trying to keep my shit together for Braxley is next to impossible. I couldn’t imagine having a baby to take care of.”
“You’re not damaged, Faye,” he tells me, looking over his shoulder as he climbs down the ladder.
“Sure, I’m not.” I roll my eyes, pushing away the negative thoughts that creep into my head. He can say whatever he wants, but I’m a twenty-nine-year-old widow.
He takes a sip of his beer and says to me, “Faye, I don’t think you realize just how strong of a woman you are. I was thinking about it the other day, if I’d been through a quarter of the shit you have, I’d honestly be in a mental institution.”
“Thanks for saying that, but trust me, some days a straitjacket sounds better than just opening my eyes.”
“Hey, at least it’s only some days,” he teases me, and I raise my glass to him, then sip my wine. “Wanna do the honors?” he asks, pointing to the wall.
Reaching high above my head from the step I’m sitting on, I press the button on the wall. His eyes are on my body, electrifying my insides. The motor works quietly, and for the first time in days, my garage door opens. “You fixed it!” I cheer, and Thane gives me a satisfied nod.
“Well, that only took, what…a week?” he grumbles.
“Hey, it’s fixed. I’m not complaining one bit,” I tell him. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course.” He hands me the new portable opener from his pocket and says, “This should work too.”
I press the button on the remote he gave me to close the door and stop the cold air from rushing in. “So you gonna give me that painting now?” he asks, and I can’t believe he still wants it, but a deal is a deal.
As we go back into the house, the warm air is soothing. I can hear the boys laughing at the movie from Braxley’s room, the noise so settling to me.
“You really want it?”
“Well…I want the other one, but seeing as I don’t think you’re gonna give it up, I’ll take what I can get.”
“What other one?” I ask as we step foot into my studio.
“That one.” He points to the painting I did from the other day that is still on my easel. I haven’t found the time to come back in here since then and put the final touches on it. “I’d give it to you, but it’s not even finished.”
“Then finish it.”
He’s dead serious. “Right now?”
“Sure.”
I contemplate his offer. Looking at the painting, it doesn’t need much. I could do it right now. But I’m not sure that I want to let it go. It’s really so dark, but beautiful, a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“You gonna watch me do this?” I ask, and he laughs at me, sipping his beer, “Hell, yeah I am.” He has a smirk on his face, and I sit down, taking in the painting as I imagine what I’m going to do to it.
With Thane next to me, I’m feeling a bit nervous. I’ve always painted alone. Ben supported me painting but never watched me do it. Thane, on the other hand, is right behind me. I look back at him, the closeness consuming me. “I can’t work with you hovering over me.”
He grabs a chair from the other side of the room, removing the painting from it and asks, “Can I set this here?”
“Sure.” Then he sits down right next to me, just the way he did the night we saw each other at the boys’ school, our thighs almost brushing against each other’s.
“Are there any colors you want in it?” I ask.
“Whatever you want, you’re the artist.”
“Oh please, a painting like this Braxley could do.”
“No, he couldn’t. This is a masterpiece. Just paint already.”
Bossy.
Dipping my thin brush into the cup of water, I clean it. Then I fill my tray with a few colors, and as I hold on to it, I envision what I want the end picture to look like. Closing my eyes, I can see it clear as day.
Sticking the tip of the wet brush in the water, I add some black and gently begin to add a thin vein through the picture, bringing depth and life to it that it was missing before.
“Wow, that looks amazing,” Thane says.
“It’s really easy. You wanna try?”
“You sure?” he asks and sets his beer down, obviously excited. I get the brush ready and pass it to him. “Where should I start?” he asks me.
“Wherever you want. Don’t push hard, though. Keep the brush away from the canvas and let the stream of the paint and water move you along.”
He stares at my lips as I speak. The tension between us tonight is thick, and I don’t fight it. I let it just be. Then he looks away; his eyes are concentrating hard as his tongue is between his teeth. The brush is hovering over the paper, and I find myself getting lost in him. In the way, he moves the brush. In the way, his scent whips around me. In the way his lips have me wanting them. That pull and connection towards him tonight is so strong, stronger than it’s been since we met, and now I can see why he kissed me when he did, ‘cause right now I could kiss him.
“How’d I do?” he asks, bringing me out of my daydream.
“Good, really good.” Looking at the line he made on the canvas; it’s almost identical to mine. Both are parallel to one another. He has a steady hand; that is clear. “You’re a natural,” I tell him and find myself leaning in closer. Letting my emotions take over.
My palms are sweaty, and I lick my lips. Something is pushing me forward, telling me I should do this, then out of the blue, he touches the paintbrush to my nose, stopping me dead in my t
racks. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” I ask him confused, with a wet nose of paint.
“Don’t come on to me like that. Last time this happened, it didn’t end well, and then we went a week without talking.”
He’s giving me that look again, and I know he feels it too, but maybe he’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Wiping my nose dry, I look down at my black hand. The gob of paint he left is huge, and I can’t stop myself, I press it against his cheek. My small hand smears the color into his skin. The stubble of his face is under my fingertips as he looks at me with his mouth gaping open.
“What was that for?”
“For stopping me.” My heart is pounding, and he grabs both sides of my face, holding onto it hard, studying my eyes. My breathing is erratic as I wait for him to move in.
Then as he slowly does, the door to the studio opens and Braxley is hunched over. Alarm consumes me. Thane lets me go, and I rush to Braxley’s side. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t feel good.”
“What hurts?”
I kneel in front of him, looking into his glazed red eyes. “My tummy.”
“You feel like you’re gonna get sick?”
He nods, and I turn to Thane, mouthing I’m sorry as I lead him out of the room. Feeling so bad for Braxley as I walk him into the bathroom, he slumps to the floor, his tiny body hugging the toilet, and as a mother in this moment I’m so helpless. I don’t want him to ever hurt; I want to take his pain away. The way he takes my pain.
Chapter 10
Thane
“I don’t want to go, Daddy.”
“I know you don’t, buddy,” I tell Jack as we head out of Faye’s home, “But Braxley isn’t feeling well. We gotta let him rest.”
He yawns and holds on to my hand as we close the front door and walk to my car. I buckle him in and can tell he’s exhausted, which doesn’t surprise me. Those boys ran themselves ragged. Looking in the rearview mirror, his eyes are already closed. It won’t be long until he’s out.
On the drive, I find myself thinking about Faye and the way she came on to me tonight. It was out of the blue. I had no idea she was ready to do anything, and I’m not complaining. I fucking want her bad, but I’m also hesitant. I’ve seen the way she’s freaked out when she goes to that dark place.
Thinking about when things get more involved because they will, I’m stressed what’ll happen. Will she accept it and be okay with things, or will she shut down and push me away?
Pulling into my driveway, I put the car in park and look back at Jack—he’s out cold. Walking to his door, I open it and then unbuckle him, lifting his small body into my arms. He’s limp in my hold.
Taking him through the front door, and into his room, I pull back the covers and lay him down in his bed. He doesn’t move as I slip off his shoes, contemplating having him change into his pajamas, but I don’t. What’s it matter, really?
As I cover him up, I’m startled by Char standing behind me. “Can I say goodnight to him?” she asks.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I whisper, pissed off.
“I need to see him, Thane.”
“He’s exhausted, let him sleep.”
“Please?” she asks again, and I gesture her out of his room, so we don’t wake him up fighting. The poor kid has seen enough fighting between the two of us in his lifetime.
“Please, Thane, don’t keep him from me.”
“I’m not keeping him from you; you let him get hurt. You can’t just come into my home like this.”
“I used to live here too,” she argues.
“And then you left us, so this is no longer your home.”
“Where have you guys been all day?”
“Don’t worry about it. What we do is not your concern, Charlene. Now, you need to leave.”
“Please, Thane,” she touches my arm and steps closer to me. I yank it away and tell her, “Now.”
Tears pool in her eyes and she says to me, “He’s gonna hate you for this.”
“For what? I haven’t done shit. You know, since he hurt himself, he hasn’t once asked about you. So if I were you, I’d get your shit together before it was too late and you ruin what little relationship you have left with him.”
She tries to touch me again, and I yank away. Any feelings I had for Char are long gone. As she walks out of my house, I’m not surprised that she did something like this. Char is a spur-of-the-moment kind of woman. Just like our Vegas wedding—she got the idea and ran with it. Locking the door, I’m glad she left quietly, and Jack didn’t have to see us fight.
With Char gone, I find my mind is immediately on Faye. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I text her, How’s Braxley? Then grab a beer and flop down on the couch, kicking my shoes off and lying back.
He just fell asleep. I think the poor guy was just exhausted.
Jack, too.
I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, she texts me, and as I stare at her words, they kinda piss me off. Dialing her number, it takes a few rings before she answers. In a shy tone, she says, “Hello?”
“Are you really sorry?” I ask her, feeling a little wounded.
She exhales into the phone, and I wait for her response. “I…I don’t know what I am, Thane.”
“That’s okay with me, but I don’t want you having regrets.”
“Can I tell you something?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Sometimes…” she trails off, and I give her a minute, letting her tell me in her own time. “Sometimes, when we’re together, I can feel Ben…”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, confused.
“I don’t know; it sounds crazy to even say out loud.”
“Nothing you say is crazy.”
“It’s like I can feel him pushing me towards you.”
“You can?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I think so. At times, I can feel him more than others, more than I have in the year he’s been gone. But it’s always like he’s giving me a feeling of reassurance when you’re around.”
Hearing her tell me this is hard to comprehend. I haven’t lost someone so close. I’m not sure how to respond or how to process it. But what I do know is that Ben was her life. I can see the way her eyes light up when she remembers him, so if I can bring a sliver of that back to her, then it really isn’t such a bad thing.
“Maybe Ben brought us together,” I tell her.
“You think?”
“Possibly, if you think about it. The boys have been in school together now for two years, and we’ve never run into each other until this year.”
“I guess you could be right.”
“Well, yeah, I always am,” I joke with her and she giggles.
“So it doesn’t creep you out, what I told you?”
“No way. I admire your strength and the way you say what you feel. Nothing you could do or say would creep me out. It’s not like you snuck into my house the way my ex did tonight to try and see Jack.”
“What the hell? She was in your house?”
“Yup, she said she’d been here all day too.”
“Oh God, Thane, what did Jack say?”
“He was sleeping, so he didn’t see her.”
“Wow, that is straight crazy.”
“Right? She needs the straitjacket.” I sip my beer and get lost in our conversation. Talking with Faye is easy. I’m hopeful that this is just the start of us moving past that barrier that was holding us back. When she was ready, I wasn’t, and when I was, she wasn’t.
Chapter 11
Faye
“Thanks, Jan,” I tell my mother-in-law as I leave the house and head to therapy.
“Of course, dear, we’ll see you soon.”
Heading out, the sun is warm this morning. As I drive away from my house, I grab my coffee, and I’m reminded of the first time I met Thane. Who knew a trip to the local Starbucks could turn into what it has
?
The drive is short, and as I pull into the parking lot, I’m not dreading my appointment, like I usually do.
“Morning,” I tell my psychologist’s receptionist, and she says, “Morning, you can go right in.”
“Thanks.” I knock, and Dr. Brinkman looks up at me from her mahogany desk.
“Hi, Faye, please come in.”
Gently I shut the door and take my coat off, then sit on one of the open chairs. “How are you doing today?” she asks me.
“I’m okay.”
She gets up and sits across from me; her brown eyes are interested—studying me. “You look good, Faye.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there a reason?” she asks.
“Not really,” I tell her, not knowing if I should talk to her about Thane.
She looks down at her notes and then says to me, “Faye, I’ve been seeing you for a year now. During that time, I’ve watched you struggle to accept the reality that Ben is really gone, grieve and blame yourself, adjust to life the best you could without him, but as I sit across from you today, something has changed. What is it?”
Hearing her say all these things takes me back to all the sessions we’ve been through. I have struggled and grieved and blamed myself and questioned it all. This past year has been dire. Then the pain all seemed to lessen the moment I met Thane. He’s really been a breath of fresh air.
“I met someone,” I confess. “A friend of sorts.”
“Does this friend have a name?” she asks me.
“Thane.”
“How did you two meet?”
“He bought me a cup of coffee when I forgot my wallet once.”
“And he was a complete stranger?”
“Yeah, and since he’s become a friend,” I tell her.
“How do you feel when you’re around him?” Her question makes me feel obliged to tell her about the push I feel from Ben. Maybe she can help me make sense of it.
“I feel like Ben is around me more when Thane’s around. Also, I don’t think about the pain as often. He’s easy to be around, he makes me laugh, and our conversation is easy.”
“Does Thane know about all this?” she asks me.