by Sam Mariano
I didn't realize that tears had formed in my eyes as he told the story, but I felt one slowly slide down my face. "That's why she did it," I said quietly.
Derek nodded. "That's what he thinks, too."
Suddenly the last piece had fallen into place, there was no more mystery surrounding my mother's death.
She had loved Mike deeply, just as I had suspected, but he had made mistakes that ruined both of their lives. He had made bad choices, and they just hurt her more. Sarah had been using Derek to keep Mike her prisoner, and when Sarah stole Mike from her again, she just broke. I could actually imagine it playing out in my mind, see my mom driving down the road, thinking of Mike, probably wiping away stray tears that she didn't need to hold in since I wasn't with her. She probably saw Sarah pull out, and the anger and bitterness overwhelmed her. Looking at the car, she could probably only think of how the woman behind the wheel had ruined not only my mother's life, but the life of the man she claimed to love. She didn't know what love was, my mother probably thought. Sarah could never understand what it felt like to love someone more than she loved herself, because if she did, she would have let Mike go. She would have wanted him to be happy. But instead she used her child to keep Mike trapped in a relationship with her. As my mother's foot pressed down on the pedal, one of her last thoughts was probably something like, "See if you ever threaten to keep Mike from his son again."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Wow."
Derek nodded his agreement. "Yeah."
"But didn't she realize you could've been in the car?" I asked.
"That's what I said too, when my dad was basically defending her. But she knew I wasn't in the car. It was a Wednesday."
I merely blinked. He said that like it meant something, but I couldn't see how it being a Wednesday made any difference. "Which means...?"
Derek sighed. "The night they were together he said he made the remark that every Wednesday was his day off, and he took me over to his mom's house and we spent the day there while my mom went to work. Of course I never thought anything of it before, but I do remember that we were at her house when we got the call."
I had wanted to hear the story, wanted all my life to understand what would drive my mother to do something like that, but I still didn't understand why that made Derek not want to be with me.
"But wait," I said. "What does that have to do with you destroying the tapes?"
"I won't do what my mother did," he said. "She blackmailed my father, kept him from the woman he loved, and basically forced him to be with her or suffer the consequences. That's pretty much what I've been doing to you."
I was about to open my mouth to tell him how completely ridiculous that was, but he started talking again.
"Andy would probably take you back. I didn't think you really cared about him, but... if you did—if you do, you should go back to him."
"You want me to go back to Andy?" I asked, frowning.
"I don't want you to, no, but you've made it pretty clear that you don't want to be with me, so..."
"I have not," I said, although I couldn't quite look him in the eye as I said that.
Derek scoffed a little. "Yeah, you definitely have. I’ve tried to act like a boyfriend, I've tried to take the place of your boyfriend. I can't seem to make you want to be with me. Personally, I can't believe you would waste yourself on Andy, but hey, if that's what you want to do..."
"I don't want to be with Andy," I stated, feeling slightly confused.
"So why were you still with him? I made you break up with him, Nikki. You didn't seem to want to. I threatened you, just like my mother—"
"Oh, stop with that," I said, cutting him off. "Derek, that's completely ridiculous. You are nothing like your mother, at least not what I know of her. And how can you think I don't want you? Can't you tell that I do?"
"I'm not talking about wanting me, Nikki," he said, glancing up at me. "I feel like the damn girl here, but I'm talking about caring about me. Yeah, I want you too, but more than that, I care about you. I broke up with my girlfriend and broke you and your boyfriend up, and then... I started to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. But you've completely rejected the idea of dating me every single time I've brought it up. I get it, Nikki. You don't like me that way."
"It's not about not liking you," I said, disbelieving that he could actually think I felt that way. "Derek, of course I like you. I haven't rejected the idea of being with you because I don't like you. How could you think that?"
"Then why the hell won't you just admit we're dating?" he asked, seeming as confused as I was.
"Because I'm afraid to," I blurted. "I don't want us to be dating, Derek, because if we're dating then we're going to start caring about each other. I'm going to start caring about you, and that caring could lead to..."
I paused for so long that even I didn't think I was going to finish the sentence, but he impatiently said, "Keep going, caring could lead to... what? Monsters? The apocalypse? Higher taxes for the wealthy?"
"Love," I said, feeling oddly defeated. "I can see myself loving you, Derek, and that scares the hell out of me."
He smiled, a slight twinkle appearing in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed my arm, tugging me closer to him and holding my hand. "Why? I'm the guy, I'm the one that's supposed to be afraid of the L-word," he teased lightly.
"Because look what it does," I said quietly, not in the mood to joke. "I don't want to love you or anyone else. Look what kind of damage loving someone does. It can destroy you, heart and soul, Derek. I don't want to get hurt like she did. I've always promised myself, as long as I've been old enough to understand, that I would never allow someone to get that close to me, to hurt me that way. If I let you, you'll hurt me, and I don't want to turn into her."
Derek pulled me into his arms, hugging me and kissing me on top of the head. "Nikki, love didn't do that to your mother; my dad did. It was their situation, their choices, that's what made them so miserable. It wasn't love. Most people care about each other –even love each other—without going through what your mother went through. I understand your reluctance, but... if you really like me, give me a chance to win your trust."
"She trusted him," I replied automatically.
"Again, their love was the exception. Most love isn't that miserable, and theirs probably wouldn't have been either, but I had to go and be born."
I smiled, even though I didn't mean to, and leaned into his chest. "Well, I'm glad you were born."
"Yeah?" he asked teasingly, his eyes twinkling at me. "How come?"
I knew he was probably expecting some nice, tender response, so I smiled up at him and said, "Because if you wouldn't have been born, I never would’ve been able to buy my favorite sweater."
Startled by my response, he started laughing, then he squeezed me at the sides and muttered, "I see how it is."
I smiled, impulsively kissing him on the shoulder. "No, I'm just playing. I really am glad you were born, even for reasons beyond my sweater."
"Yeah?" he asked. "Then what do you say you give us a real chance?"
I had to think about it for a minute. He was asking me to do something I had never done before, something I had never wanted to do—let him in my heart when I had spent my life keeping people out. He was asking me to completely throw aside my safety net and take a chance on him, to actually risk losing my heart to him.
But then I started to think of how I had felt when I thought he didn't want to be with me anymore, that slight feeling of panic, the gnawing in my stomach. These weren't good signs, I was certain, but maybe he was right. Maybe I was too afraid. Maybe Mike just made bad decisions, and Derek wouldn't do that to me.
Should I put my fears aside and take a chance on Derek?
All my conditioning prompted me to tell him no, but as I looked up into his intoxicating blue eyes, I realized my heart felt kind of funny, and the decision might not be entirely in my hands anymore.
Instead of giving him my consent
to steal my heart, I said, "Promise me you won't hurt me."
He smiled down at me, making me feel like I could trust him if I would just stop resisting, and he leaned down to kiss me, murmuring against my lips, "I promise."
Chapter Ten-
In all the time I spent denying that I was dating Derek, I don't think I realized how nice things would be if I just stopped fighting it and went with the flow.
Since Derek and I were officially dating, I didn't feel awkward when we sat together at lunch, I knew I didn't have to explain why he would sit on my desk to talk to me, and it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do to just walk down the hall holding hands.
Although Derek started picking up extra shifts at work, we still spent as much time together as we could outside of work and school, but I never wanted to go to his house, just in case I would run into Mike.
He spent the night a time or two over the course of our first official week, and spent those two nights introducing me to a more tender kind of sex, the kind that could actually be referred to as lovemaking. I liked that, too, although he would still tug on my hair a bit.
Strangely, the only thing that was really different since admitting that Derek and I were dating was that it was easier. I didn't have to spend so much time being confused or suspicious, and I didn't have to waste any energy making up excuses about being friends.
Derek and I were more than friends, and even though at the start of the week I had difficulty accepting that, it only seemed to take until the end of the week to sink in. Once I stopped fighting it, I realized that it just felt right.
I thoroughly enjoyed Derek as my boyfriend, too. He no longer had to come up with reasons to hate me, as we were both set free of that dutiful –but pointless—hatred.
I still enjoyed talking to him about school assignments, and the way he would look at me, eyes twinkling, and shake his head made it somehow better. He made me feel so good, so special, even cherished when he would look at me that way. He had this way of conveying his feelings for me in a single look, and when he would look at me that way there was no doubt in my mind that he did care about me.
I never realized how good it would feel to have someone care about you when you returned the feeling. I had known that Andy cared, but that only made me feel like there was a burden on my shoulders, a vague sense of guilt that I could never and would never reciprocate.
With Derek, even though it still made me a little anxious to think about it, I already returned the feeling.
Not that I loved him, obviously—but I certainly cared about him. And there were plenty of things I loved about him, or things he would do that I loved. But I still wasn't going to go throwing that word around.
Another thing I loved about openly admitting that Derek was my boyfriend was that I got to enjoy official girlfriend privileges, like nagging him about taking me places I wanted to go, and guiltlessly expecting rides to and from school.
I got several rides to the bookstore, where I still hadn't put my application in. It definitely wasn't Derek's favorite place to go, and since I could spend hours in a bookstore and still want to go back the next day, he got bored easily. Usually he would try to find me if I had wandered off, but sometimes I would actually hide from him just to amuse myself.
During one of our trips, I really threw him off. I saw him peeking down the aisles for me, so I made sure to stay an aisle ahead of him, but I ended up wandering over into the children's books. Ironically, even over there I found myself browsing through the books, and while I was browsing I found the book that had always been my favorite growing up.
"Derek, look," I said, excitedly running over to him and holding up my book.
He raised an eyebrow and read the title. "The Littlest Pumpkin." Then he gave me a funny look. "I think you've been here too long, hon. That book is for four-year-olds."
I rolled my eyes dismissively. "I know that, but you don't understand. This was my absolute favorite book when I was little. My mom used to read it to me every single night, but my grandma sold it in a yard sale for a quarter, and I've never been able to find it again."
"How tragic," he remarked dryly.
"This is the best book," I told him, hugging it to my chest. "Because of this book I used to drive my mom crazy. She would take me up to the little produce stand to pick out my pumpkin for Halloween, and she would show me the big pumpkins, but after she read me this book, I would always pick the littlest pumpkin to take home."
He smiled, shaking his head. "Why?"
“Because in the book The Littlest Pumpkin was the littlest one, and nobody wanted it. It made me sad, and I didn't want any of the pumpkins to feel that way. I remember literally going through each and every pumpkin, picking them up, eyeing them up, and only the smallest one would do."
"Well, what about the biggest pumpkin? Didn't he feel unwanted then?" he teased.
"No, everyone wants the big ones. I had to have the small or deformed ones."
He shrugged. "I don't remember ever picking out my own pumpkin. We always just had one of those light up jack-o-lanterns from the store."
"Really?" I asked, wrinkling up my nose a little. "I can't imagine. Picking it out was the fun part. I got to pick out two of them, too, because I got to pick out one for the grandparents and one for us. My grandpa would gripe about my fetish for little pumpkins though, because they cost the same as the regular sized ones. I have to get this book," I told him.
"You should," he agreed.
I gave him a teasing smile. "Maybe I'll read it to you before bed."
"I can think of more interesting things to do before bed," he remarked.
Rolling my eyes, I ignored his comment and said, "Next year you have to promise me that you'll go pick out your own pumpkin."
"Do I have to get the smallest one?" he asked.
"Nope, that one will be going home with me. You'll have to settle for the second smallest."
"Lucky me," he remarked dryly, following me up to the checkout.
As winter break drew closer, I tried to decide what I should get Derek for Christmas. I would have loved to get him a book, but I knew he wouldn't want one, so I tried to coax other ideas out of him. I wanted to get him something that he would really like, but none of the ideas that I came up with seemed good enough. They all seemed too generic. There was a CD that he wanted, a movie he mentioned, then I thought maybe I would buy him a new hoodie or something. But none of it was good enough. I wanted to get him something really good, I just didn't know what.
It was several days before Christmas vacation, and Derek got off work and came over to my house. We were sitting on my couch watching television and there was some commercial on, predictably about a husband buying his wife a Christmas present.
Derek gave me a little smirk and tugged on my pony tail, stating, "I got you a pretty good present."
I could not believe that Derek, the guy, had finished his Christmas shopping before I did. "You already bought it?"
"Yep," he said, nodding. "You're never going to beat me, either, so you may as well get me a pack of socks." He paused thoughtfully and said, "No, you know what, I have a guilty pleasure. I like toe socks better."
"Toe socks?" I asked, a giggle escaping before I could attempt to stifle it.
He nodded. "They're comfortable. Get me a pair of those."
"I can't just buy you a pair of socks. You're incredibly difficult to buy for, Derek Noble," I informed him.
"Well, you're not, Nicole Harmon," he mocked.
"What's your middle name?" I asked, realizing I had always wondered that.
"Michael," he answered.
"Is it? I thought my mom mentioned something about Mike wanting to name the baby after him if it was a boy."
Derek nodded. "He did, but my mom wanted to switch it around. His name is Michael Derek Noble, and she wanted to switch the names around and name me Derek Michael."
"Well, I'm not going to lie, I'm glad she did. It would be creepy to call you Mi
ke."
"Very creepy," he agreed.
"Okay," I said, rubbing my hands together. "If you could have one thing, anything in the world that you wanted, what would it be?"
He thought for a few seconds, then responded solemnly, "World peace."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, Miss America, what else?"
Derek chuckled. "I don't know, hon. I'm not really a big gift person. I don't have Varsity Blues, buy me that."
"That's not good enough," I complained. "I don't know what to get you."
"I will like whatever you get me, Nikki." Then, inspired, he said, "I know what you should get."
I looked up, waiting for the next stupid suggestion. "What?"
"Buy yourself some lingerie. I promise I'll enjoy that," he said with a smirk.
I swatted him on the arm, smiling and rolling my eyes. "I'm not buying myself lingerie as your Christmas present."
He raised his eyebrows, shrugging. "Suit yourself. You asked me what I wanted and I told you. It's not my fault if you don't listen."
"You cannot seriously want that," I stated.
"Actually, now that I think about it, that is what I want. You know what else? A pair of handcuffs. We could have some fun with those."
Honestly, just thinking about that was making me wish I really could buy him stuff like that without feeling ridiculous.
"Go to the porn store," he suggested. "You will find the perfect Christmas present there."
I shook my head. "No, if I buy you handcuffs you're definitely going to have to end up using those on me, too."