Calm Like Home

by Clark, Kaisa

  I walk into our next public speaking class and sit in the same seat as last time. A few minutes later Marcus slides in next to me and drops his bag on the floor.

  “Can't wait for whatever’s in store for us today. Hopefully there aren't pop-speeches in this class, although that seems oddly fitting.”

  I groan because that really does sound like torture. “Surely not, right?”

  He gives a half-hearted smile as the professor approaches the podium. Class starts off with the announcement that we’ll need to be ready to give our first speech in two weeks. Marcus scribbles something on his notebook and angles it towards me.

  Oh great!!

  I know he’s not looking forward to the actual speech part any more than I am, but I want to be reassuring, so I smile up at him. He still looks less than thrilled so I write him a note on my own notebook.

  It'll be fine.

  He feigns a smile and shakes his head lightly, my words evidently convincing neither of us.

  As we’re packing up, Marcus turns to me. “Can you meet tomorrow? We need to start getting something down so we can practice.”

  We make plans to meet at Java House before he heads out the door. As I follow after him, I check the screen of my phone, more out of habit than anything. Suddenly my heart is in my throat, pounding away. On the screen is a text. From Adam. Aside from the letter, it’s the first time he’s reached out to me in the twelve days he’s been gone. I quickly open up the message string to find a picture of a heaping bowl of ice cream and a brief message.

  Be jealous.

  It’s simple, nothing really, a text he could’ve sent to anyone, completely devoid of any implication or affection. But he didn’t spend it to just anyone. He sent it to me.

  I push open the creaky, wooden door to Java House, the aromatic rush of coffee beans greeting my nostrils. It’s a small coffee shop so it’s easy to tell Marcus isn't here yet. I order a coffee and one of their oversized cookies, then find a table near the back. A couple minutes later, he pulls the door open and his eyes scan over the tables until he finds me. He quickly orders a black coffee then slides in across from me and begins arranging his notebook, pen, and laptop on the tabletop. When he’s settled he gestures to the cookie.

  “What’s that? Chocolate chip?”

  I nod and push it towards him. “Have some. A little chocolate makes everything better.”

  He makes a face and shakes his head so I pull it back towards me and break off another chunk. I know Adam would’ve had some. He’d have made some joke about my sweet tooth to get me to laugh. I sigh, wondering if I’m doomed to compare everyone to him. If he’ll always be the one who got away.

  We set to work outlining our speech: an informative talk about our company’s products. The company we ended up with is a local fast food restaurant. Marcus jots his ideas down on his notepad, the words flowing out of him effortlessly. When he turns it towards me, I’m truly impressed.

  “This is really good,” I say, looking up from the draft.

  He nods once, acknowledging my comment. “I'm a print journalism major, so writing’s never been the hard part.”

  Marcus makes a few more tweaks before we start making notecards to practice with. I pull out a handful of pens and use different colors to emphasize certain words or phrases I want to make sure I hit when I’m terrified in front of the class.

  “How many of those do you have?” he asks, gesturing towards the pens.

  I smirk back at him. “A bunch.”

  “Plain old black is too boring for you?”

  “Little bit.” I hand him a red pen. “You should give it a try. Start out slow with red and work your way up.”

  He gives a hesitant smile as he takes the pen and returns to his cards, but I catch him using it a couple times so he must not think it's too bad of an idea.

  As soon as Marcus packs up, I’m checking my phone. The screen is blank, nothing but wishful thinking. I contemplate sending Adam a text, but everything I want to say would likely come across as too needy or desperate. I miss you. I wish you were here. How can I say those things when I have no idea what we’re even doing? If it’s crossing a line? What if he doesn’t reply? What if he doesn’t feel the same? It’d gut me. It’d shatter me to the core.

  I sip the remains of my coffee and start on one of my stats assignments. My mind releases and I absorb into the pen and paper. The x’s and plus signs flow smoothly out of me, unlike the furious starts and stops of speech writing.

  When I finally reach home, I drop my bag by the door and collapse on the couch. I lay in near darkness watching the fish dart smoothly through the water, trying not to think about the first night Adam came into my apartment and the energy flowing between us. I end up falling asleep that way and dream about joking with him over espresso shots at Java House.

  Annabelle catches my eye as soon as I walk in for my next shift at Milano’s, retrieving a much-needed chocolate from her apron pocket and sliding it down the line towards me. I tear into the wrapper, savoring the rich, dark flavor on my tongue.

  “You're slipping. I can see it.”

  I nod. “It's eating at me.”

  “I'm sure he feels the same.”

  “I'm not. I hardly hear from him.” My face is impassive, but inside I’m wrecked.

  “And he hardly hears from you so that obviously doesn't mean a thing.”

  She’s so wise, always seeing both sides when I’m content to wallow in my own hesitation. It’s been well over a week since our phone call, since I’ve heard his voice in my ear, and the gaping hole in my heart seems to be expanding with each passing day. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel lost without him here. I don't know how I could’ve been so completely changed in only one month's time, because really that’s all Adam and I had together. A single month. Thirty-one short days. From taking a drive to driving away. Whatever we had seems so fragile when put into that perspective. The short time frame doesn't seem to encapsulate the intensity of our connection, how fully I fell for him in just thirty-one short, blissful days.

  After work Annabelle and I go to Javier's and drink cheap beer with him and some of the other servers. My thoughts drift to Adam, knowing he’d enjoy seeing me drink this garbage. Without even meaning to, I tune out everything around me, weighing whether to text him. I don’t want him to know how badly I’m missing him, especially if it’s unrequited, but maybe this is sufficiently benign. I might actually be able to get away with sending this message without coming across as too needy. I snap a picture of the beer can in my hand and send it to him. My phone buzzes back instantaneously, an electric rush flowing through my palm, coursing through bone and muscle, straight to my heart.

  You've got to raise your standards Lex

  Then I clearly need to stop hanging out with broke servers

  I forget you're not spoiled like me

  A second later he sends a picture. It's a tower of Natty Light cans. I burst out laughing.

  Clearly I'm not the only one who needs to raise my standards

  Texting with Adam brings a temporary smile to my face but sufficiently rips an even deeper hole in my chest. All I want is to lean my head into his shoulder, to actually hear his laughter and see his smile rather than read flat words on the screen of my phone.

  I stay for a couple more beers, thinking a sufficient buzz may keep my mind occupied. After plodding back to my apartment I climb into my empty bed. I pull the extra pillow, his pillow, tight against me and lay my head on it like it’s his chest. The longing starts seeping in, curling around me, whispering at the edges of my mind. His smell is slowly dissipating from my sheets and I can't decide which is worse, the torture of his lingering scent or smelling nothing at all. At least smelling him brings back fond memories, whereas the nothingness simply stretches on, a dull ache, a low throb, a continual disappointment.

  Chapter 16

  Our birthday weekend is here. Even though I’m out with Annabelle, I think about him the whole night; t
here’s no point even trying to fight it. September fourth means only one thing to me: Adam Westbrook. It fills my heart with such conflict; it’s so bittersweet. When the clock strikes twelve it becomes the day the most amazingly wonderful person I know was put on this earth. Put on this earth and kept a little too far away.

  Just after midnight rings in his birthday my phone lights up and I’m stunned to find it’s a call from Adam. He hasn’t called the entire time he’s been gone.

  “Lex!” he shouts into the phone over the noise of a bar. I can practically hear him grinning from his playful tone. I rejoice in the sound of his voice, let it sing through me, lighting me up from the inside out. To my ears it’s the most beautiful sound. “I just wanted to say hey! And happy birthday!”

  “It’s not my birthday!” I giggle into the phone. He’s obviously completely wasted and his happiness is contagious. God, I wish I could see him now, smiling and flushed and entirely carefree.

  “It’s our birthday!” he yells. “I’ve got to see you. I’m coming to see you!”

  “Whatever, Adam,” I laugh. “Have fun! Take a shot for me!”

  My heart melts a little knowing he’s thinking about me. He’s out with his friends having the time of his life, but he’s calling me. I’m the one on his mind. Hours later when I wake up he’s the first thought that springs into mine. I can’t help it; my brain just goes there. He’s no doubt hungover and I’m sure his frat brothers will have him drunk again in no time, if he’s not already.

  When I get back to my apartment after my lunch shift I send him a proper Happy Birthday text. It’s late enough I don’t have to worry about waking him, but I don’t hear back. I’m sure he’s busy, am glad he’s enjoying himself on his day. I switch my music on and busy myself in my apartment, making sure I have an outfit picked out for my own birthday celebration tomorrow, which happens to be Labor Day. I’m having dinner at my parents’ house then Annabelle and the work crew are taking me out to celebrate. Not nearly the insanity I’m sure Damien planned for Adam’s birthday, but I’m looking forward to the fun. It’ll be a welcome distraction if nothing else.

  As I sift through my closet, I think I hear a knock at the door, but it’s hard to tell over the music. Weird. I turn back to the closet but I hear it again. Two raps, a little louder now, a little more urgent. It’s probably Javier here to snag some alcohol.

  “You’re out of beer already?” I ask, pulling the door open. But it’s not Javier I find standing there.

  It’s Adam.

  He doesn't say a word, just pulls me into his arms, wraps himself around me until every part of us that can be touching is. At first I’m too stunned for words and I think maybe I’m dreaming. But then he's pushing me back from the door and kicking it shut behind us and I know this is real. He’s actually here. His hands are cupping my face and he's kissing me slow and soft and sweet and it’s more amazing than I ever remembered it being.

  “What’re you doing here?” I finally force the words out, still stunned into disbelief.

  “I told you, I had to see you.”

  His lips are still pressed against mine and I feel him start to kiss me again. I let him because it’s all I’ve been waiting for these last twenty-three days.

  “Shouldn't you be out? It's your birthday!”

  He presses his forehead against mine and our eyes meet.

  “You’re all I really wanted for mine and there’s no way in hell I was missing yours.”

  I can't help it. I'm beaming. I'm absolutely beaming, melting in his arms.

  We make it to my bed, completely entangled. He takes his time with me and I savor every minute, every touch. I run my hands over every inch of him, soaking him in. We can never be close enough, not after how far away he’s been. He’s whispering in my ear, breathless, saying, “I’ve missed you so much.” We are eager and excited and fumbling and so overcome with happiness just to be together once more. I don't know how it’s possible to feel so complete, so whole, but with him wrapped around me I feel more like me than ever.

  When I wake the next morning, there he is, dark eyes on mine. His face breaks into that perfect smile and I feel so alive, so happy, so peaceful at his side. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him. I’ve missed feeling this way whenever he comes around. Seeing Adam again is like coming up for air. I soak him up, breathe him into me. I expand in his presence. I take it all in because I know once he’s gone all I can do is wait for the next time he comes around and I can finally breathe again.

  “Hey, blue eyes.” He grins widely. “Happy birthday.” His voice is gruff from sleep and oh so sexy, and when he kisses me it's the best gift I could ever ask for. I don't think I could ever want anything more. But then he's moving over me and somehow everything is better. His body gently glides over mine, slow and smooth and perfect. He's loving me from the inside out, pounding my heart in my chest, bleeding me of all reservations. I let his kisses, his touch, his whole body devour me. I dissolve into every freckle, every muscular line, every move he makes until the world falls away and I spiral into pure euphoria.

  Adam collapses beside me, chest heaving, and kisses my forehead.

  "Wow. Just wow."

  "Yeah," I pant, grinning. "Wow is right."

  My whole body aches with love for him. I feel it pulsing in my fingertips, swelling thickly in my chest, swirling round and round in my brain. I link my pinky in his and roll to face him. I wish I could find it in me to tell him what he means to me, how everything has been amplified in his absence, but the words won't come. They get lodged in my chest, caught in my throat.

  He pulls me closer until we’re completely entwined, a tangled mess of sheets and limbs. Being so close brings new meaning to the word us because I can hardly tell the end of him from the end of me. As we lay there, Adam keeps shifting, pressing his skin against mine in every way possible and I have to laugh.

  “Would you sit still?”

  “Can't. Must. Get. Closer.”

  I giggle and push closer, aligning my toes against his, grasping his body tighter in my arms, pressing my cheek to his chest.

  “That's better!” he laughs.

  He looks down at me and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His brown eyes have a depth to them that’s different than I remember and I wonder what he’s thinking, but I don't ask. I just stare right back and hope that somehow my eyes convey all the things I can't yet bring myself to say.

  “So what would you have done if I wasn't here last night? Go back home and see your parents?”

  He exhales sharply, almost a laugh, but it’s harsh, weighted, not the usual light, joyful sound I’m used to. “Not much of a home to go back to. They’re never around.”

  “Even after you come all the way back?”

  “I don't normally come back unless it’s break.”

  “Not even for your birthday?”

  He shakes his head lightly and presses his palm against mine, matching up the pads of each of our fingers. I can feel the rough calluses, evidence he's been playing. I rub my index finger against the jagged edges, gently caressing them, then curling my fingers around his, I draw his hand to my lips. I kiss each pad, slow and soft, rubbing the rough tips along my lips. His face is relaxed, his eyes half-closed in a serene daze.

  “When did you start playing?” I ask, my lips brushing his fingertips as I say the words.

  His eyes flutter shut. “Long time ago.”

  “You're really good.”

  He nods once, a slow flick of his head. His eyes open but he keeps them trained on my chest, avoiding my gaze.

  “Do you ever play anywhere?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, it's mostly just for me. Well, and now you.”

  “You’ve never played for anyone?” My voice betrays my astonishment.

  “Damien’s probably heard me through the walls but that's about it.”

  “That's too bad, Adam. People would be blown away.” I try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at me
.

  “People usually like to listen to happy songs. Mine always seem to be sad, even when they’re about you.”

  I can't imagine why. I don't know how this happy-go-lucky guy is capable of making such heartbreakingly sorrowful music or why he wouldn't want to share it with anyone.

  “Now I feel special,” I say brightly.

  “You should.” His eyes meet mine. “You are.”

  I lean in to kiss him, savoring the softness of his lips against mine. I don't ever want him to pull away. I don't ever want to let him go. Part of me is terrified that once I do, that’ll be the end of us. That this weekend is nothing more than a rare exception to the usual withdrawal.

  We stay entwined in my bed into the evening. Finally my phone rings, bringing reality crashing back.

  “How’s it already seven?” I mutter. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house for dinner.”

  “Yeah, I should probably hit the road. Gotta get back to the grind.” He says the words so solemnly that my heart breaks a little. I hate the reservation creeping back into his delivery. I hate that he already feels so far away.

  “Thank you for coming, Adam.” I try to make my voice reflect what his visit has meant to me. His fingers snake through my hair and he pulls me closer.

  “How could I not?” he asks against my lips. “And miss this?” He flips so I’m pinned beneath him, my hands clasped in his own up above my head. He begins trailing light kisses all along my neck. “And this?” His lips make their way painfully slowly down to my chest. “And this?” He plants tender kisses over my skin, toying with me.

  I withdraw my hands from his and wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him against me. His body begins to move slow and rhythmic over mine. I grip his shoulders and arch my back, pressing into him. I want to feel him everywhere. I only ever want to feel his smooth skin and his warm breath and his callused fingertips. I want to smell his scent and taste his mouth and hear his voice saying my name. I want to completely forget what it ever felt like to be apart, only knowing the elation of feeling his fingers softly caressing the contours of my body. I soak it all in, through every pore, memorizing exactly what this feels like for the instant he’s away.