Virginia Gone

by Vickie Saine

  “I’m out,” Brandon announced leaving the room.

  Virginia picked up her favorite stuffed bear and hugged it close to her chest. Her father was quiet, awkwardly so. It had been forever since she’d been alone with him. He watched her with an intense gaze that rivaled Riley’s earlier one.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked. “Riley said you were soaked coming in. Maybe you should get out of those wet clothes and take a nice hot bath. ”

  “I’ll live.”

  He took a step closer, then another until he was standing in touching range. He tilted her face up with the tip of his finger. His blue eyes fixed on hers.

  “Virginia…”

  She glanced away, “I’m tired. Would it be okay if I get some sleep? I’ll see mom in the morning.”

  His hand dropped back to his side, “Of course.” He stopped at the door and glanced back. “I’m happy you’re here...with me.”

  Later in the darkness, Virginia watched shadows that seemed to scratch along her walls: snarled limbs making jerky movements outside her window catching the wind and moonlight. She could feel the soft down comforter between her fingertips, and drew the cover up to her chin clasping it snug there. Her old twin bed was comfortable enough, but she wasn’t. Inside she was trembling. It was like watching a horror film and expecting the unexpected at any moment, which made absolutely no sense at all. She exhaled a breath, and her rigid form relaxed.

  You’re being silly.

  Close your eyes and go to sleep.

  Red numbers on the clock by the bed flipped over: 12:30...12:45…1 am. Virginia’s eyes became so heavy she could no longer fight sleep, and she began to doze off nestling deeper down in to the covers. Her eyes fluttered as she slipped in to a heavy sleep, dreaming.

  1:30 am. She felt the mattress dip behind her. Her eyes opened. Arms circled her waist. His chin dug into the tender muscle along her shoulder causing her to cringe. She could hear his excited breaths coming more rapid as he molded his body against her backside.

  He whispered, “Shh, I just want to be near you.”

  Virginia screamed, and sat straight up in the bed to find herself alone. Her heart sped, the only sound in the room. She pressed palms to her cheeks slick with perspiration. Her white cotton gown clung to her skin.

  The door knob to her room rattled. She held her breath clasping the covers to her chest. She listened. One beat. Two beat. The door knob rattled again! And again! Pressure was applied to wood from the other side, but the lock held. There was a shake. A shove.

  “Honey, are you okay? I heard you scream,” her father called.

  “Go back to bed dad…I’m okay,” Virginias words came out broken.

  Three

  “She sometimes thought she was going crazy. Her first thought when she woke up was always how to get him out of her thoughts. And she would keep watch, hoping to see him next door, while plotting ways to never have to see him again. ” –Sarah Addison Allen, Garden Spells

  Virginia had never seen her mother appear so vulnerable or broken. The left side of her face was bruised and swollen until her left eye was hardly visible in the folds of flesh. Her lips were chapped and peeling, dried blood in the thin lacerations. A hissing sound came from her mouth with every labored breath.

  The reality of her mother’s condition came rushing in like arctic air slicing deep and painfully to the marrow of her bones. She sat in a chair by the bed clasping her mother’s hand tight drinking in the sight of her still body, limp under the layers of blankets. The room smelled of rubbing alcohol and something Virginia couldn’t quite make out.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been home. I just couldn’t….” Virginia wiped away tears from her cheeks, and tried again. Her voice was barely a whisper, “I just couldn’t face him. I am a horrible daughter. I know it. Will you ever forgive me?” Her mother moaned, and her head lolled to the opposite side. Her mumbled words were incoherent—a bad dream maybe. She did appear slightly feverish.

  Virginia heard movement, and turned to see her father pause in the doorway. She immediately dropped of her mother’s hand and abruptly stood, a vein in her forehead pulsated matching the beat of her speeding heart. She sniffed, forced back the tears refusing to let him see her cry. “Does she ever say anything? I don’t think she knows I’m here.”

  “Oh honey, I know you’re here. Isn’t that good enough?” He came to stand before her making movement towards a hug.

  “Dad, please don’t.” She stepped back twice, and touched her face.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  He tried pulling her towards him, but her feet were planted were she stood.

  “Don’t….” She wrenched her arm free. “I can’t breathe! Shit, I can’t breathe!” Red blotches broke out all over her chest as she bent clutching her knees gasping for air. Inhale. Exhale. Her heart beat so freaking fast. It had to be a heart attack. That’s what it was, a heart attack. Nobody’s heart pounded that bad without them falling over dead. Her father advanced towards her again.

  “I said don’t touch me!”

  “Riley! Get in here!” her father yelled.

  Riley appeared in the doorway. He immediately went to Virginia. The expression on his face was hard, unreadable, but there was no trace of a smile. Gone was the young boy whose infectious humor used make others laugh.

  Smack!! The flat of her hand met his cheek. He grabbed her wrist stopping a repeat of the action. She pushed against his chest. “I hate you,” she told him, the second time with less conviction. “I hate you.”

  He didn’t shy away even though she furiously fought him; instead he scooped her up in sturdy arms and carted her outside. “Shhh….it’s okay. Fresh air will make you feel better. I promise.” He gently placed her in the porch swing.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered drawing her legs up to her chest, hugging them tight with her arms. “You’re looking at me as if I’m crazy.”

  She reminded him of a confused, lost child, not someone who was crazy.

  He sank down next her stopping the easy glide of the swing. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Gin, you’ve had a rough time. It’s understandable for you to be frightened. But you’re going to have to let us help you though it.”

  Tears came softly. Occasionally she dragged stray ones away with a palm. “I was a wild, mischievous child. My mother had a time with me. I never wanted to listen. I used to have a pet turtle. When I was five, I think, I warned my mother one day I was going to disassemble the damn thing. She laughed. I don’t think she believed I could do something so…so cruel. About a week later, when she was in the kitchen getting dinner ready, I done exactly what I warned her I would do. I tore the turtle’s shell from his body—I took him apart piece by piece. Not because I curious….I had no reason for doing it. When she found the mess scattered across the living room floor…..” Virginia sniffed and cut her eyes away. “She said it wasn’t my fault…it was her fault, because she should have been watching me. I can’t lose her Riley.”

  Four

  “Why were girls in such a hurry to grow up? Agatha would never understand. Childhood was magical. Leaving it behind was a loss.” –Sarah Addison Allen, The Peach Keeper

  Virginia poured steaming coffee in her cup. It was a beautiful afternoon. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The temperature was perfect: warm with a light, gentle breeze.

  “Is there fresh coffee?” Her father’s footsteps approached her from behind.

  She blew as she sipped careful not to burn the tip of her tongue. “Yeah, Riley made a fresh pot. I think I’ll go enjoy it on the front porch.”

  “Maybe, I’ll join you? We can catch up. ”

  Virginia hesitated, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m still a little shaken from earlier. I was hoping for some time alone. You know, just to clear my head.”

  “Of course, I’m sure...” he paused, shook his head, “we’ll have plenty of time to talk. You are going to stay for while…I h
ope?”

  She nodded and made her way to the front door.

  Stepping outside the first thing Virginia noticed was tan flesh—slick and wet—glistening in the bright sun. She squinted out at the truck. Riley was bent over a bucket. The cords of muscles along his side flexed as he came back up with a sudsy rag, which he sloshed up on the hood of his pickup truck smearing grime and dust in circles. An image of him standing in the shower plunging a sudsy wash cloth over his naked body brought a sudden rush of heat to her flesh.

  Don’t allow your mind to go there Virginia…don’t you dare.

  “Hey beautiful, how are you feeling?” he smiled wickedly up at her as she peered over the railing.

  “Fine, what are you doing?” she asked taking a sip from the coffee cup.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I know, but in the middle of the yard? You’re making a muddy mess.”

  Virginia couldn’t help but notice how physical fit Riley was. Good Lord, the guy had matured nicely. He wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of tattered jeans that rode low on his narrow waist. Something about seeing his masculine bare feet, and the way he possessively crouched around the trucks wheels had Virginia’s head spinning. She fanned herself without even realizing she was doing it. With lazy, unsure movement she went to sit on the porch swing.

  “No way, you’re not going to watch me work. Get your ass down here and help,” he said.

  “No.”

  He stopped and stood only making his bare, rigid chest more visible for her curious nature.

  “Why not… you have something better to do? “

  “I know you. You’ll think it’s funny to get me wet,” she answered gesturing at her cotton summer dress, which was wrinkle free and spotless at the moment.

  He winced as if she’d wounded his pride for expecting the worse of him. “I promise I won’t soak you.”

  “You expect me to believe you?”

  “Come on …stop being a big baby and lighten up.” The smile he offered reminded her of the silly boy, the boy she had grown to consider just as much her brother as Brandon was. Any reservation she had disappeared. What harm could it really do? There were neighbors. Her family was inside. Virginia sat the coffee cup on the railing and slid out of her heels. She walked to the edge of the concrete. Two steps in to the mushy yard and, “Oh gross, the mud is squishing up between my toes. How can you stand it? It’s feels horrible.”

  He leaned a hip against the bed of his truck, arms folded across his chest, a lazy smile on his face. He watched her awkward progression towards him. “You are such a wimp.” He took her wrist, turned her hand up and dropped the wet rag in to her palm. “Do know how to wash a truck mouse, or do you need instructions?”

  He was only teasing her. She knew it, but glared up at him anyways, then went to work on the opposite side of the truck. Occasionally their gazes met across the hood.

  “So, how are you?” he asked.

  “Do you mean, am I better than earlier, or am I better in general?”

  “Both?”

  Virginia shrugged a shoulder as she continued to wash. “I’m alright. How have you been?”

  He flashed a brief smile, “I’m alright.”

  “Okay, so I’m not a girl of many words. What do you want me to say?”

  “How about telling me what’s going on with you.”

  Her cloth stilled, “I don’t think I understand….”

  “Are you feeling any different about being here?”

  Her sudsy hands went to her waist, damp spread across the cotton fabric of her dress. “I’m here. Is that not enough?” Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the nozzle visible in the midst of his clutches. “You wouldn’t dare…”

  She quickly turned her face as streams of cold water hit her left arm, the freezing water splattered, soaking the front of her dress and sending icy trickles down her legs. Screams erupted. In the process of running back up to the house, Virginia’s muddy feet flew out from under her. She landed on her bottom with a solid thud. Not far behind, Riley felt the snap of the hose when he’d reached as far as it would stretch. He dropped it, and went for Virginia with a hand full of mud laughing so hard he could barely breathe. It clumped on the top of her head; the mushy blob crawled down the strands of her hair to her shoulders. She was horrified. Pissed beyond belief and done the only logical thing—she retaliated—clawing the loose ground she got her own hand full of mud, stood.

  Riley took a step backwards for every step she took forward.

  “Now Virginia, you don’t want to ….”

  “Oh yes, I do,” she replied slinging the mud.

  Riley had no problems dodging her pitiful attempts, “Come on, you can throw better than that.” He never gave her the opportunity. He tackled her and they both went down resembling two muddy pigs in a flooded pen. Riley blocked any attempt she made of escape pinning her to the ground with his weight.

  At first she was shaken by the feeling of being held down, but then, “Stop fighting mouse, you know you’ll never win this battle.”—he made her laugh. Not a giggle, a full- fledge-laugh-until-you-cry laugh. Lying on her back—the ground cool and soft underneath her—she stared up at the cloudless sky until she could catch her breath.

  “I hate you. I really do,” was all she could manage.

  Riley came up on his elbow lying next to her, “No you don’t.”

  “You seem pretty confident.”

  He swept a strand of mud coated hair off her face. “I just know you. You have no idea…”

  “I have no idea what?”

  “Nothing…forget it. I’m just glad you’re home.”

  Their gazes held. A million things were revealed in that moment and at the same time nothing at all. His mouth moved closer to hers, and hovered there, their lips never quite touching. He tormented her with sweet expectation.

  Kiss me. Damn it, kiss me.

  His gaze dipped to her lips.

  “Virginia??”

  “Yeah?”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as his open mouth came down over hers. His lips were soft, like she had imagined they would be. He took her bottom lip in-between his teeth and applied sweet pressure, only to pull away leaving her wanting more. He wanted her to come to him, and she did, she whimpered coming up to greedily claim his entire mouth. When his tongue slipped in to her mouth she completely gave in to the long buried lust with a groan her fingers going to his hair. His weight rolled to her, as her right leg came up and wrapped around his hip. Her heel dug in to his muscular ass. They explored each other mouths until she heard someone clear their throat nearby.

  They were not alone.

  Virginia broke the kiss. She gasped and tried to maneuver out from under Riley, her fingers splayed on his solid chest. Her cheeks flamed red when she saw the disgusted expression on her brother’s face as he stood on the porch, one shoulder leaned against the banister.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” She twisted free from Riley and darted up the steps. She avoided looking directly at her brother.

  Five

  “If a man has so much heat he burns your skin when he touches you, he's the devil. Run away”—Sarah Addison Allen

  “What are you thinking, kissing him? Hasn’t your little infatuation caused our family enough trouble? Brandon asked her later that evening. They were in the den watching Taxi Driver with Robert De Niro—Brandon’s hands down, all-time favorite movie. Brandon resembled the typical sprawled out male assuming most of the room on the couch was his domain. Virginia kept to her thin slither of what was leftover, her feet tucked under her bottom, her lap draped with a light blanket. She chewed at an inflamed hangnail on her thumb.

  “I know. I know. Trust me, I’m not allowing myself to go there.”

  “I don’t believe you. You always fall for his bullshit.”

  “That’s a horrible way to talk about your best friend.”

  “Ex-best friend…. do you ever see me talking to the assh
ole? I wish he would leave, crawl back in whatever hole he crawled out of. We’d all be better off.”

  “Brandon! That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “Is it? Don’t you ever wonder what our family would have been like, if he’d never been invited to live here?”

  Yes, every second of every day, but she’d never admit it to Brandon. It would only supply him with more ammunition. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one that introduced him to our family.”

  “Yeah, and our parents should have been like most parents telling me I wasn’t allowed to bring home strays. Really Gin, It’s probably a good thing you left. Maybe, you should have stayed gone.”

  The hangnail she was torturing swelled with blood. “Maybe. Have you ever told mom or dad how you feel?”