Still Rattled

by Charles, Jane

  “We’re not leaving until we know you are awake,” Mia insists.

  “We’re awake,” Alex grumbles from beneath the covers.

  “As soon as we’re gone you’ll go back to sleep.” Alyssa grabs the covers and pulls them away. I yank them quickly so I’m not uncovered too. If I were in pajamas that would be fine, but I’m as naked as the day I was born. And, even though they are girls, I still don’t want them to see me naked.

  “Somebody didn’t go right to sleep last night,” Joy giggles. “You know you’re not allowed to sleep in on Christmas, Alex.”

  My face heats.

  “Of course, it’s not like you had anyone you wanted to stay awake with before.” She grins at me, and my face gets hotter.

  Alex glares at them. “I’m awake. Kelsey is awake. Now, would you kindly leave so we can get dressed?”

  “You won’t go back to sleep?” Alyssa asks with a raised eyebrow as if she doesn’t trust him.

  “No.”

  “I won’t let him.” They just need to leave so I can get some clothes on.

  The three of them slide from the bed and head for the stairs. “Pajamas. It’s a rule. No regular clothing.”

  “Go!” Alex orders and they rush down the stairs laughing before the door slams.

  Alex pulls the covers back up and then latches onto me. “Much better.”

  “We should get up.”

  “Not yet.” His voice is low and warm from being asleep and he kisses my shoulder as his hand slides up my stomach and caresses a boob before pinching a nipple.

  “They are waiting,” I warn.

  “It’s only seven,” he counters.

  “I don’t think they care.” Laughter bubbles as I think of the three eager faces. They are like three sisters to Alex, and I’m envious of what they’ve had since Baxter, but not as much as I used to be. I do have Alex.

  “It’s also not ten yet.”

  “Ten?” It takes me a minute and then I remember what day it is. “Yes, ten.”

  “I’m just getting started enjoying the sex, fucking, making love, all of it, in every way and I’m going to be cut off.”

  “Are you pouting? It’s not even a week, Alex. You will live.”

  He looks up at me with those intense blue eyes. “I’m not so sure.”

  “I got in trouble for taking pity on you once, so I’m not going to do it again.”

  He slides his hand down my stomach. My muscles tighten and my pussy starts to throb. “We can’t have sex now. Not with everyone waiting.”

  “They are more important to me?” he asks as his fingers slip into my folds. “You are the one who won’t have sex on your period. I already told you that doesn’t bother me.”

  Grabbing his hand I move it away. Even though I sure as hell don’t want to, but I want even less for Alyssa, Mia and Joy to storm back in here right as we’re in the middle having sex. “I’ll never figure you out.”

  “What’s there to figure?”

  “Needles and tats are okay. Needles in arms and blood make you dizzy and pass out. Sex with a period, no big deal.”

  “It isn’t the blood, Kels. It’s the needles.” He cringes. “Long, nasty needles.”

  The door to the stairs opens and we both freeze. “You better not be touching her pussy. We have presents to open.”

  Alex groans. “The only present I want is right here,” he yells.

  “Too damn bad. Now get your ass down here.”

  I’m pretty sure that was Joy, and I laugh as I push Alex away and get out of bed.

  Kelsey is curled up in the corner of the couch, her knees drawn up and her feet tucked and she’s holding a mug of coffee with both hands. The fire is bright and everyone is loud. Kelsey is quiet, a small smile on her face as if she’s just taking it all in. First the stockings were handed out, and even though they are all identical, each person carefully dumps out their contents.

  “No eating candy until after breakfast,” Dylan warns. His casseroles are already baking in the oven, and he’ll get pissed if everyone fills up on candy and doesn’t eat something healthy.

  “What’s this?” Joy asks, the first to empty her stocking. She holds up a little book and then her smile gets bright. “It’s a little adult coloring book.” Then she looks around the room. “Who got these?”

  Kelsey timidly raises her hand.

  “It’s supposed to be something cheap, like candy,” I whisper to her.

  Her face colors. “They were cheaper than candy,” then her voice gets louder. “I got the bookstore on campus to give them to me. They’ve been sitting in storage because they never sold, and it was too late to send them back.” She laughs. “I did buy the cheap colored pencils and markers, and split them up among you guys, so you’ll have to share if you want to use a color different than the one I gave you.

  “Fun!” Alyssa squeals. “Let’s color after breakfast.”

  Once everyone has emptied their stocking, the markers and pencils are lined up on the coffee table for everyone to use. Kelsey must have bought the super pack of each because every shade of every color imaginable is there.

  “Time for presents,” Mia cries out, much like a child who can’t wait to see what Santa brought her. Nobody is expecting anything big. We do have a twenty-dollar budget after all, but just the feeling of family and Christmas morning is exciting enough.

  Kate is the first to open her necklace. A violin with broken strings and a bent bow. On the lower part is a crooked heart.

  “I love it,” she whispers as she puts it around her neck.

  We’d decided that each of the girls needed to open their necklaces right after the other. Zoe’s is a bouquet of flowers with petals falling almost like a waterfall. Mia’s is a broken heart with dollar signs coming out of the top. When the three necklaces have been opened, Mia eyes the guys. “Clearly, you all shopped together.” She laughs.

  “Picked them out the day after Thanksgiving,” Christian tells her.

  “We hadn’t even drawn names yet.”

  He gives her a disbelieving look. “But we were going to, and they were there. Besides, we wanted to buy from these particular artists.”

  The girls share a look then Zoe’s eyes widen. “Kids at Baxter made these?”

  “Yep.” Ryan grins.

  Tears mist her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Dylan then hands Zoe her gift. “This was also made by a Baxter student, but we didn’t want to risk the metal jewelry.”

  Inside is a small decorative box, fired with a cream and rose glaze. “I’m not sure what you’ll use it for, but I thought it was pretty.”

  Zoe hugs it to her chest. “I don’t know either, but knowing a Baxter kid made this, makes it twice as special.”

  I hand Kelsey the long, flat box from me. “I bought this before I knew there was a Baxter booth.”

  “I already bought my own necklace.” She fingers the stitched up heart that she’s worn almost every day since she purchased it. Then her eyes go wide. “Wait, you bought this before you knew about the booth. That was the day after the tattoo.” She opens the box and tears mist her eyes as she draws out the hand-painted silk scarf. “Why? How?”

  “Even though you’d only walked back into my life the day before, I knew you’d be here for Christmas.”

  “Don’t forget, silk doesn’t chafe the skin.” Mia winks at me.

  “But, leather is better.” Zach laughs and Kelsey just buries her head in my shoulder.

  The guy’s presents are pretty generic. Dylan got oven mitts, Christian got reeds for his saxophone from his favorite music store, Ryan got 35 mm film because he’s still old school, and Zachary got two new wig brushes because he keeps misplacing the ones he has. Then Kelsey hands me a box. She wasn’t supposed to get me anything, and when the hell did she have time to shop?

  The fact that it’s heavy makes me nervous. She had better not have gone over the twenty-dollar limit. That is not allowed. Ever!

  Then I laugh when
I see what is inside: notebooks and pens.

  I turn to Kelsey and kiss her. “Thank you.”

  “It’s what you need, right?” Then she shrugs. “But not as nice as my scarf.”

  “Trust me, if I hadn’t seen you with the scarves, I would have been clueless on what to buy.”

  “Alex?” Ryan asks. “Why do you need school supplies?”

  Kelsey’s eyes go wide, and her mouth pops open as if she’s worried she let out a secret.

  “Don’t worry. I was going to tell them today anyway.” I assure her before telling my roommates and the girls about the offer from Martha and the plans on getting a business degree.

  They’re happy for me, as I knew they would be.

  “The only thing I need to do now is come up with a new name. Martha wants me to change it because what Skin Scribes was, is no longer.”

  “Any ideas?” Dylan asks as he gets up and heads to the kitchen.

  “No clue.” I shake my head.

  “Just think about it,” Christian says. “Something will come to you.”

  “That’s all I’ve been told,” I grumble. “Just think about it.”

  “You could always go with that,” Kelsey laughs, then squeezes my hand. “Something will come to you.”

  I look into her soft eyes. “Just think about it,” I say as the words starts playing in my head. “That’s it.”

  “What?”’

  “Just Ink About It.” I turn more fully toward her. “That’s what my tats are about – whatever is on their mind or in their heart. Just Ink About It!”

  “Perfect.”

  This is the first real Christmas I’ve had since I was a little girl, and everyone has made me feel so welcomed and loved. Like one of their family. My eyes have gotten all teary several times, which I’m blaming on my period of course, but it’s almost too unbearable. Emotions bubbling up, some I wasn’t aware I had, needing to break loose. Of love and longing, of wishes and dreams, of heartache from so much loss, of joy from what’s been found.

  Was Brandy even enjoying Christmas? She is so ill, and I’m not sure if she’s in the hospital or at home. Did she get to sit on Santa’s lap this year, did he fill her stocking with candy like mine?

  And, what about the kids at the shelter? Was another six year old playing with her Barbie, changing her clothing, switching out shoes while her older sister was curled up with a beloved book and her brother used his super heroes to right the wrongs in the world? Christmas was for children. Every last one of them should have toys to play with, smiles on their faces and candy to ruin their next meal. I had a few good Christmases and Alex did too, before we were plopped into the system, but I don’t know about the others. Not that I’d ask. But, I suspect they hadn’t, which is why this is so important to them.

  There is just one more thing I need to do today, and for once, I think it will be easier to write.

  Or, harder.

  I don’t say anything, but get up from the couch and make my way up to my apartment. I still can’t believe all of this is mine for as long as I need it. I’ve never had this much room to myself in my entire life, and it feels like a mansion compared to the other places I’ve lived.

  After closing the door behind me, I go into the massive closet and take the pink box from the shelf, along with the stack of stationary and envelopes, and sit down to write her letter. Brandy may never read these. Hell, she may never even meet me, but I need to write, as I’ve needed to write to her since before they took her away. Someday I hope she understands why I did what I did. That she can forgive me, somehow, for giving her up. And even though I know it was the best thing to do for her, I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for not being the one to be her mom.

  A tear drops onto the stationary. “Crap.” I didn’t really realize I was crying. But I need to cry. I need to have a big old, ugly cry and let out everything from the past month. I’ve been on a roller coaster ride since I got my tattoo, and I just need to let it go.

  The more I think about it, the more the pressure builds, and I’m overcome. Abandoning the letter, I bury my face in a pillow and just let it all go. I should not be crying on Christmas. I’m having a happy Christmas, the best. “Damn period.” I get up and go into the bathroom and grab medication from the cabinet and get a glass of water. Maybe when I get rid of these cramps and sleep a little, I’ll feel better.

  Kelsey went upstairs almost two hours ago. At first I thought she just wanted to be alone for a little bit because all of us together can be a bit overwhelming, but the longer she is gone, the more I start to worry. Did someone say something to upset her? Is she not feeling well?

  Nobody’s asked about her. They all saw her leave, but they’ve given me a few questioning looks.

  “I’ll be back,” I finally say and head upstairs.

  Kelsey is curled up on the bed, sound asleep. That pink box she was so worried about after the break-in is open on the bed. Beside it is stationary and a pen. I shouldn’t pry, but can’t help myself. She’s written a letter to Brandy. In it she talks about Christmas, of finding out the name her parents had given her, and how she hopes her blood can help her and that Kelsey will be able to give her bone marrow, even if it is unlikely. Then she lists her wishes and dreams for Brandy and hopes that she can one day forgive her for giving her up. I nearly cry after reading the letter. I set it aside and move the box so I can get on the bed. Every envelope in that box is addressed to Brandy, and there are at least three dozen.

  I had thought Kelsey made peace with giving her child up. Maybe not as much as she wants everyone to believe, and I hate that she still hurts so much.

  By the dried tear streaks on her face and the damp pillow, I assume she cried herself to sleep and I’m torn between waking her and letting her sleep. Then I spot the bottle of meds on the nightstand. It’s a popular, over-the-counter med for cramps. I had no idea she was uncomfortable because she never said anything. So, instead of waking her, I pull the blankets up to her shoulders then turn the light down and let her rest.

  “Alex?” Her voice is quiet and I lean down.

  “Sleep.”

  “What time is it?” She shifts and switches the bedside lamp on.

  “Afternoon.” I take a seat beside her.

  “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” She pushes the covers aside as she sits.

  “How long have you been writing letters to Brandy?”

  “Since before she was born.” Kelsey picks up the letter she’d just written, folds it and puts it in an envelope and then adds it to the back of the box. “Maybe I’ll be able to give them to her one day.”

  “You will,” I assure her, but I’m not even certain. Brandy could decide to hate her mother for giving her up and refuse to speak to Kelsey or even acknowledge her. Or, she could understand, and want a relationship and understand that Kelsey did what she thought was best. Unfortunately, they won’t know for twelve years when Brandy turns eighteen.

  “I just wish I knew why Dr. Prescott wants me to come to his office.” The call came from Dr. Prescott at about 9:00 a.m., but he wouldn’t say what we needed to discuss. All I want to know is if he can use my blood or not, but all he’d say is that he’d like to talk to me.

  “I’m sure it’s all good.”

  Alex is only trying to reassure me, I get that, but he can’t know any more than I do, and my nerves have been mounting since we left the brownstone and made our way to the hospital.

  Others are waiting for the elevator when we reach it, and I’m not paying attention until we step in and glance up into the eyes of Mrs. Cross. She doesn’t look much older than she did six years ago, but there are lines around her eyes and shadows beneath, as if she’d been strained with worry.

  Of course she is. Brandy is sick. Very sick and has been.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cross.”

  Her light eyes go wide, as if in panic, upon recognizing me, and I glance down to the little girl beside her. Dark, curly hair, skin far too pale to be heal
thy and the widest grey eyes look up at me.

  This is my daughter. Brandy!

  Alex clutches my hand, and I’m so glad he’s holding onto me because all I want to do is grab this beautiful little girl close and hold her tight. An ache, so deep in my chest spreads to my throat, and pulls me to her.

  But, I can’t hug her. It’s a violation, and to this little girl, I am a complete stranger. I can’t scare her like that.

  “Kelsey,” Mrs. Cross says, her voice tight.

  “You have a beautiful daughter.”

  “Thank you.” If the woman was any colder she’d be ice.

  I don’t give a damn. This is my daughter and it might be the only time I ever get to meet her, or talk to her, and I squat down so that I’m at eye level with Brandy. “Hi. I’m Kelsey, what is your name?”

  “Do you know my mommy?”

  The question is a stab to my heart. Better than you realize. “Yes. We met a little before you were born.”

  “Miss Fry,” Mrs. Cross warns.

  I can feel the tension practically rolling off of Mrs. Cross. I’m not going to out her, or me, to my child.

  “Your hair is like mine,” Brandy says as she fingers the loose curls.

  “It can be a pain, can’t it?” I laugh and swallow back tears. She has my hair and Brandon’s eyes.

  “Tangles.” She nods with a frown. “But Mommy will braid it when I get to my room.”

  “I like to braid mine before I sleep too.”

  The elevator dings and the doors open.

  “It was very nice meeting you,” I tell her, clutching Alex’s hand to keep myself from following her.

  “Come along, Maddie.” Mrs. Cross hurries my daughter out of the elevator as if I’m a monster that wants to make off with her.

  We follow them out, but walk slower. It’s as if Mrs. Cross would run if she could.