by Lily Foster
“Are you sure you’re making the right decision? I’ve been researching and—”
I cut her off. “You mean if I checked your computer’s search history I’d find stuff like, um, the disadvantages associated with transferring in the middle of law school?”
She tickles under my armpit. “Something like that.”
“And what are the downsides?”
“Obviously, you lose the contacts you’ve made at Northwestern.” She emphasizes, “Not just the professors, but your fellow students.”
Yep, that’s a valid concern. Close bonds have already been forged among the first-year students, and she’s right, I won’t know any of my new professors.
“Transferring will make it harder to get a good internship.” She looks up at me. “I imagine it would make it harder, right?”
I nod. She’s not wrong. “Keep going.”
“What about getting a spot on a good mock trial team, or the law journal stuff.”
She’s done her research. “Anything else?” She’s quiet now, but I feel her shake her head against my chest. “Hey.” I shift my body to the side, which isn’t easy in a hammock, and coax her to look up at me. “I’m not gonna lie, all the points you’ve raised are valid. Socially, and just as far as, I don’t know, getting to know the academic culture at a new school, it’s going to be an adjustment. But it’s going to be all right. People transfer all the time.”
She rests her head back on my chest. “I don’t think you’re being completely straight with me.”
“I am. Listen, Charlotte, they accepted me because they know I’m number one in my class at Northwestern. I’m going to get a spot on a good trial team, and who knows, I could be editing the Michigan Law Review before it’s all said and done.”
“Confident much?”
“I’m confident because I’ve worked my ass off, and I’m going to keep doing that. And I’ll meet the faculty and students by joining groups and associations that deal with the issues I’m focusing on. I am probably going to have to do some other crap that I normally wouldn’t have gotten involved with, but that’ll be a small price to pay.”
“Like what?”
“You know, like join the intramural flag football or hockey team or some shit…Find a way to meet students outside of class.”
“You play hockey?”
“It’s a co-ed league at Northwestern, so it was mostly for fun, but yeah, I played in an intramural league off and on throughout undergrad.”
“Wow. I feel like I’m meeting you for the first time.”
“Yeah, baby, there’s all sorts of things you don’t know about me.”
One hand moves down my side and around my back. When she cups my ass cheek, she pulls me in closer. “Do tell.”
“Hmm…Let me think.” I’ve got a nice view down her tank top right now, and her smile is telling me she knows this. I slide the strap of her top down one shoulder as I nuzzle into her neck. “I speak fluent French now.”
“Ooh la la,” she whispers.
“I can fly an airplane,” I add, awkwardly shifting us so that I’m now on top of her.
“Really?” she asks absently, breathy.
Rocking my hips into her, I watch her lids drift closed as her teeth graze her bottom lip. “And in my spare time, I’m a spy for the Russian government.”
“That’s great,” she murmurs, raising her hips up to meet mine.
She shifts then, probably because I’m crushing her, and the movement sets us off balance. With a WHOOMF, we land on the grass below.
“You’re lucky I landed on top,” she says, catching her breath and laughing.
I run my hands down her back, resting them on her ass. “I’m just lucky in general.”
“Want to take this inside, big boy?”
“At your service.” But I pause, holding her in place. “Are we on the same page now? If there’s some other concern you have about me relocating, you’d tell me, right?”
She shakes her head, her long hair falling in a curtain around us. “I want you there with us, Simon. I just don’t want to be selfish about it.”
“Selfish? You’ve never made a selfish move in your life. It’s time for me to make some sacrifices. I’m long overdue, wouldn’t you say?” She shrugs one shoulder. I haven’t convinced her. “I don’t think you get it, Charlotte.” I raise us into a sitting position, take her face in my hands. “I wouldn’t survive being apart from the two of you. I don’t want to keep popping in and out of your lives on the weekends. I want to be there. I want Ethan to be close to me.” Dropping a kiss on her lips, I add, “I want to be close to you.”
She nods. We lift ourselves up off the ground and I watch as she rids herself of the grass and twigs that cling to her shirt and shorts. I reach over, tucking her hair behind her ear, my mind taking me back to last weekend. Lawrence was here on Saturday morning, but then arranged an overnight fishing trip with a few friends. This weekend he scheduled another trip to see his brother down in Wisconsin. I’m pretty sure he’s got an ulterior motive, one that benefits me. I knew he was in my corner the first time I met him. And I’m grateful, because tonight it’s as good as it was the last time, when I thought I could never feel as close to another person the way I do when I’m with Charlotte. Her sweat-slicked skin grips and then slides against mine. She opens for me, invites me into her, and then closes her eyes and sighs when I’m fully seated, rocking her hips to get closer still.
On the nights I can’t be with her, I drift off to sleep in my lonely studio apartment dreaming of her. Charlotte in the shower house, Charlotte in the grass late at night, Charlotte in that cramped twin bed in her room, my hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the sweet, sexy sounds she makes. Making love to Charlotte is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, because the absolute best moments are when she’s lying in my arms right afterwards. It’s then that I feel like maybe, just maybe, my life is going to turn out better than I ever dared to imagine.
I can’t get enough of her.
Charlotte wants me, I’m confident of that, but there are certain areas of our relationship where she still insists on applying the brakes. I don’t like it, but I understand her logic. She doesn’t want to change the way Ethan sees us together just yet, wants it to be something he sees happening gradually, wants it to be natural. So in front of him we’ll hug hello and goodbye, hold hands now and then, but nothing more. One day I’ll be able to wrap her in my arms and greet her with a kiss in the morning in front of our son, and he’ll be able to scramble up into the bed his parents share if he wakes up in the middle of the night scared. And even though some days it’s all I can do to keep from pulling her onto my lap or dragging her in close just to breathe in her scent, I know all good things come to those who wait. I can be a patient man when I have to be.
I see my life now, with more clarity than ever before.
She sags against me when she comes, and I hold her up, finishing a moment later. “You feel so good,” I tell her, but what I want to say is: You’re mine, you’ll always be mine.
Charlotte
“You expecting company?”
“No.” I turn to see Lawrence’s attention fixed out the front window.
“Maybe it’s a lady selling Avon or something.”
I chuckle. “Up here?”
“If she didn’t look so much like Faith Hill, I’d venture a guess she’s a car thief.”
He lets the curtain drop as he makes his way towards the front door.
“No, Lawrence, I’ve got this.”
I get to the door first, opening it to see Simon’s girlfriend—I mean ex—standing next my car, peering down to look in the back window. “Can I help you?”
She doesn’t even have the courtesy to act embarrassed or startled. “You must be the baby mama.”
Lawrence steps forward but I turn to him, gesture for him to go back into the house. “It’s all right, I can handle it.” He looks between us, taking a moment before going back inside. I
notice he takes a seat in the rocking chair right by the front window. I don’t think I need protection from this woman, but it’s good to know Lawrence has my back all the same.
“So I guess you already know who I am.” When I don’t answer, she continues to make her way around my car, closer to me. “Cadillac XT5, huh? So you’re not some pauper from the backwoods like I thought you were.”
The fancy car is another reminder of Janelle. She continued to drive the same F-150 she’d been driving for the last decade, but after Ethan was born, she insisted on buying us a “city” car with heated seats, four-wheel drive and every conceivable safety feature. Not one year later, she traded it in for the this, the latest model, just a month before she died.
Shaking off the sting, I look over to this girl’s shiny little Audi coupe. “We buy American around here.”
“I certainly know Simon didn’t buy that car for you. He’s flat broke.”
“Why are you here?”
“I guess I just had to see you for myself.”
She looks me up and down, and while she’s trying to hang on to this air of superiority-act she’s got going on, I can see the cracks in her armor. Her hair and skin are flawless, for sure, and to put together a casual-chic outfit like that I’d need a personal shopper, but there are bags under her eyes and her nails are bitten down to the quick.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Simon is letting you ruin his life, ruin everything he’s worked for. I get that he wants to take care of his son, but do you realize what he’s giving up?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, not that I have any words to offer this slightly hysterical looking person. “Transferring means he loses his scholarship. Transferring means he loses an all but guaranteed job offer from one of the top law firms in Chicago. Transferring means—”
“It means he’s walking away from you.”
“This isn’t about me, it’s about Simon.”
I roll my eyes. I was feeling sorry for this chick until about a second ago. “This?” I gesture between the two of us. “This is all about you.”
She smirks. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? How do you think Simon’s going to feel when he has to sign for the, what, the forty-thousand or so he’s going to need to get through this year alone? And another forty next year?”
I can’t help but wince at that, even though she’s exaggerating. I’ve researched that angle too. It will be thirty-two thousand in tuition for this year, and next year he’ll be able to qualify for in-state tuition, which is closer to twenty-two. But she knows she’s hit a nerve. If you know Simon, you know finances are always front and center in his mind. He’s proud, doesn’t like to owe anyone.
“He’s got a free ride at Northwestern. He’s at the top of his class. And you’d have him give all of that up to start over at a lesser school?”
“Michigan is ranked higher.”
Why oh why am I even engaging this girl?
“If you knew anything about the field, which you obviously don’t, you’d know that Northwestern is guaranteed to open more doors for Simon. At least I care enough about him not to let him destroy his future.”
“I think you should go.”
“Look…Charlotte?” The fact that she’s playing it off like she isn’t entirely sure what my first name is laughable. I’d be surprised if she didn’t know my social security number as well as the color of the underwear I’m wearing right now. “I get that you want him to be involved in his son’s life. And he’s honorable, he’d never neglect his responsibilities where Ethan is concerned.” I can feel my face heating, feel a hatred that’s venomous. How dare she even speak my son’s name? “But he can do all of that and still stay at Northwestern. Trust me, you’d be doing yourself a favor.”
“Excuse me, but aren’t you the heartless bitch who failed to give Simon my phone messages? Who destroyed the letter I wrote to him? You lied to him. You never wanted him to know he has a son.” I advance on her. “How can you stand here and say that you care about Simon?”
Her confident stance and expression falter. “I do care about him.” She shakes her head, her pain evident. It feels like she’s pleading with me to understand when she adds, “I love him.”
I turn to leave because I’m shaking, and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that this confrontation has rattled me to my core. I’m on the front porch with my back to her when she calls after me, “He was going to ask me to marry him. It’s true. He already has the ring.”
Simon
The lights are off when I pull up to the house. I check the time on the dashboard and then check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed any messages. Judge Michaels took today off, and being the good guy that he is, left instructions for the rest of us to head out by two. It’s not even nine o’clock now but everything is eerily quiet.
Are you awake?
It’s been like an unspoken thing these past few weeks that I no longer head to Lawrence’s cabin. I leave my stuff in a spare bedroom off the kitchen for Ethan’s sake and to be respectful to Lawrence, but I’ve been staying in Charlotte’s room.
A bubble appears, so I know she’s typing back, but then it disappears a moment later.
Is everything ok?
Another minute passes before I see a light go on in the living room. As I make my way from the car to the porch, I take her in as she stands in the doorway. She’s smiling but there’s something off. As I get closer I can see that she’s been crying, but for some reason she’s trying to act like everything’s good.
“Hey, what’s wrong.” I drop my duffle and close the door behind me before wrapping my arms around her.
Her arms feel like two spatulas as she extricates herself from my hold. “I’m fine.”
“Um, no, you’re definitely not. What’s going on?”
She lets out a tired breath and walks to the living room, taking a seat in the chair next to the couch. Doesn’t give me the option to sit next to her.
“Are you sure about this whole thing? About transferring, leaving Chicago, giving up the life you’ve built for yourself there?”
“Are we really doing this again? I thought we put this to bed last week.” I go to take her hand, to lead her over to the couch next to me, but she wraps her arms around herself before I can reach her. “Wait, are you having second thoughts? You told me you were on board with me coming to Michigan. What’s going on?” She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. “If you’ve changed your mind, I really wish you would have let me know sooner.” She gives me nothing. “Damn, Charlotte, I’ve already accepted my seat at Michigan.”
“And Northwestern? Have you relinquished your seat there? Have you met with Professor Westfield?”
“Yes to question number one, and what does Westfield have to do with this?”
“The Westfields, all of them, have been a big part of your life for the past four years.”
“I’m kinda sitting here baffled right now, babe.” And I’m growing impatient, but I’m not going to say that out loud. “Can you just say what’s really on your mind?”
“I asked you once before if you were engaged to her and you said no.”
I nod. “Because I’m not engaged and I never was.”
“And if I’d never reached out to you? What then?”
I’m sure I’m shaking my head because I’m dumbfounded. “How can I answer that?”
“Would you have married her?”
“Huh?”
She drags both hands along her scalp in frustration. “She paid me a visit this morning, Simon.”
“Samantha came here?”
“I’m just going to ask you a question, and please, please, please…Just be straight with me. I’ll never keep you from Ethan, I’ll never—”
“What the hell is going on right now?”
“Did you pick out a ring, Simon? Were you planning on asking her to marry you?”
“No!” I’m pacing the living room now, so much anger coursing through me I’
m afraid I’m going to blow. “Whatever she told you, it’s a lie!”
I’m embarrassed when I see Lawrence standing in the hallway, hearing all of this.
“Everything all right in here?”
I turn to him. “Yeah. I’m sorry I raised my voice, Lawrence.” But he’s not checking in with me, he’s looking squarely at Charlotte. She looks up, her face puffy and red, and nods to Lawrence. He fixes me with a stern look before turning to go back upstairs.
“After everything she’s already done, why would you believe her?”
“It was more than that.” I can barely hear Charlotte because she’s dropped her head back into her hands. I move closer, kneel right in front of her. “She painted a picture for me of what your life is like. To be with us you’re giving up a scholarship, giving up a cushy job.” When I go to cut her off, she raises her hand to stop me. “Don’t say it’s not important because it is. And this isn’t just about school. God, Simon…For me there’s never been anyone else. No one. You don’t have to imagine me with another man. You don’t have to wonder if I’m missing him, wishing I was still living the life I had with him. I’m trying not to be jealous or insecure, but I really need to be sure you’re not going to change your mind or regret this.”
“Regret being with my son? Regret being with you?” I sit there, feel my hands drop to my sides. How can she think I’d regret any of this? It’s a minute before I stand and walk over to the side table where I left the framed childhood picture of me with my two brothers. “I’ve probably lived in a dozen different places since I left Pennsylvania, between dorms, crashing with people during breaks and my crappy summer sublets. This picture has made every move with me.” I sit back down at her feet as I remove the backing on the frame and take out the smaller picture that sits behind it. “This picture has come with me too. I’ve taken it out and stared at it so many times I’ve lost count. I never got over you, Charlotte. I never will.”
She wipes at her eyes and takes the picture from me. She’s still studying the image of us as teenagers when she says, “That girl told me she loves you. Told me you had a ring picked out and everything.”