Fire In The Water

by Janice Ross

  "You're a stubborn child, dammit!"

  "I'm an adult." I pleaded for that much, at the very least. I coaxed myself not to release the burning tears, no matter how frustrated I became. "Respect me and my choices as an adult, please." I wanted to believe my choices were good enough. "Let me make my own mistakes."

  "Listen!" Her eyes rolled while she threw both arms wide open only to form a boxed circle in the center of the room. Sometimes, as I studied the glare of her pupils, I wanted badly to believe I saw a mother's love reflecting back at me. "Your head is so far up in the clouds, you're not willing to listen to reasoning."

  "What more could you say, mom? You've worn my ears thin with your words."

  "Seriously, Chanel? I'm your mother."

  "Yes, you are. No one ever said you weren't. You're my mother. I'm your daughter. Your twenty-two-year-old daughter who is no longer a kid."

  "My child, for crying out loud. You'll always be my child. I don't give a damn how old you are." She paused, sticking two fingers into the air. The house settled around us. I waited patiently for the punchline, which I knew was seconds away. "Zachary–"

  "What does that have to do with my relationship with Zach?" I tapped lightly at my chest, and then formed a wide, exaggerated circle. "We're okay."

  "I think you guys need to find yourselves outside of this…this puppy love." By her referring to it in such an insignificant way, she was reducing all hope down to zilch. She believed it to be counseling, but I saw it as unfiltered opposition. "I know many young girls want to believe in a fantasy called true love. I just don't want you to live to regret–"

  "That's it, Mom. Find yourself out of my room, now!"

  Her face got deathly red and her lips quivered. I knew I'd crossed the line, but damn, she was badgering me.

  "What's going on here?" Dad stepped through the door wearing a white T-shirt with gray pajama pants and a wrinkled smile. He appeared at the right time, as usual, to calm the mode. His wild hair resembled sand at the onset of autumn. He was my savior. He was my hero. He was the only one who gave two shits about my heart.

  "Dad, I knew Mom would wake you." I snuggled into his warmth. There had to be one person in every girl's life to set the standard for the right man.

  A gentle smile crept along his lips. Whenever his eyes found mine, I saw pure adoration and the undying love of a parent. He understood me in a way I felt my mother never would.

  "Zach'll be here any minute," I stated.

  My gaze found my mother’s sharp, intent one. We held the stare for several seconds while I leveraged pull as my dad's princess.

  "Oh yeah, he's heading back up north today, isn't he?" Dad rested his lips on my forehead, then teased at the top of my silky, deep cinnamon tresses with his finger. A few strands of hair fell forward from the ponytail to tickle at my forehead. "I'm heading back to bed. Keep it down, ladies." With his free hand, he captured my mother's waist to direct her close to his other side.

  "Steven," she screwed in a nasal snarl.

  "Baby, it's too early for Steven. And you're not Jacqui right now. You're my woman. I'm honey, teddy bear, anything but Steven now." Lowering his voice to filter out the depth, he added, "Come back to bed." His fingers lingered at the tip of her shiny, apple-red finger tips. I traced the stare from one to the other. In his, I saw the fullness of life in utter bliss. In hers flashed misery, to which I rolled my eyes.

  "I'll be right in." Her assurance was quick and unbelievably detached, shaky. "I promise." She handed him a fake-me-out smile, the kind not capable of extending beyond the line of her nose. Her eyes and cheeks remained droopy and sad as ever.

  The minute her husband left, she took two quick steps for me. Our eyes leveled. She let out a flurry of air from her nostrils, momentarily shifting the aroma of my room from the usual vanilla essence. I moved up my right knee to lunge backward away from her, but she caught my elbows. I looked down at her grip, from one side to the next.

  "Chanel," she pleaded in a strained tone. Her hold bordered painful and her eyes had widened so much. She seemed on the verge of exploding into tears. I wanted to console her, to apologize for whatever was certainly going on inside of her mind alone and to promise that she would be all right. Her reaction made it apparent that the underlying issue was her and not me. But then she stated in a cold, baseless manner, "First, find yourself," before mournfully exiting to the right.

  Anger collided with the continued frustration of having to deal with my mother's negativity. After all, this is my life, these are my choices and this is my way of living. No one should try to control me. If I were to make a shift on account of someone else, then I would be living for them. Not me. I held my breath, in hopes of capturing the sobs before they were able to escape. In doing so, I exploded internally, like fireworks erupting on the Fourth of July. How was it possible to know something beyond an ounce of doubt, yet someone else make every attempt to destroy your confidence?

  And why?

  I sunk to the ground, folding one leg over the other. As much as I wanted to wail, my stubborn streak wouldn't allow it. Instead, I shook with an all-consuming rage and planned for a future far away from her misery. I remained in the middle of the floor for close to thirty minutes, seething with disdain.

  A twinkling from my purse put me on alert. It was an alarm. Zach was set to stop by soon. The only thing to finally get me going was my willingness to see him, so I unfolded from my reprieve on the cold ground to prepare.

  ~

  By the time I showered and got dressed, I became even more pissed off. When I got to the bottom of the stairs to find Jacqui Bissett in a full burgundy robe and rigid stance, I prepared my words carefully. Before I could begin, however, she started in on me.

  "I'm not down here to fight with you. I want to explain myself. You see–"

  "You don't get to do this," I strained out through the bitter anguish of my frustrations. I needed an ally so badly because everything else surrounding me was connected with her. My guard could never come down. All that was left for me to do was fight for what I knew to be true, as all else got rejected. "This is my life. What gives you the right to dictate what I'm supposed to feel? No... you don't–"

  "I sure as hell do. I'm your mother. You're my daughter. My purpose for you as a mother is to direct your way, and if I can offer advice to make things more...to make things easier, then I will lecture you until I'm blue in the face." The words tumbled before me without her taking in an ounce of air until she completed her argument. "Chanel, please, find yourself first."

  "So, your words of motherly wisdom are to 'first, find yourself'? I don't need to find myself. I've already been found." My cries were senseless as far as my mother was concerned. "Or do you prefer me running around with a new guy every week? Is that it?"

  "Chanel, baby, you know that's not what I want. Be reasonable, puh-leeze?"

  Every time we had these deep chats, our already shaky connection dulled even more. When I was a child, she commanded me, but since I'd gotten older, that wouldn't fly. Now it shifted to patronizing me like I was an idiot.

  "I've known Zachary since forever. I loved him then and news flash, Mom, I love him even more now." With the palm of my right hand, I pledged my undying love. I gripped at my chest, literally feeling the swarming emotions. I'd already cried in the shower and didn't want to again. Not now, and definitely not in front of her.

  "He's my future," I whispered low. If I'd said the words any louder, I might've crumbled to pieces.

  "So, you think. Sweetheart, I don't want you to miss out on having real life experiences." She reached for me. I yanked away. "This relationship is limiting your outlook on things."

  "Why do you always do this?" I threw my arms out sideways to shrug. "He's heading off to school. I'm not going to see him every day. That should make you happy." No! I wouldn't let her make me cry again, not when I was already emotional over having to let him go. Poughkeepsie wasn't a quick drive from Long Island, even at around 11
5 miles. We couldn't see each other every day. "Yeah, that should please you."

  "I won't stand for a smart mouth, Chanel, but I'm glad." She squinted as her lips twitched. She ran her fingers past her crown to rest at the middle of naturally enhanced strands of hair. Why did my mother see all of my inadequacies when she was anything but perfect herself? She focused on how young we were, though Zach and I had been experiencing love in the purest form. I was almost certain she was unhappy with herself. Maybe if she'd spent less time on my life and more time on hers, she'd feel some sort of fulfillment.

  "He's a good guy, you know." I'd held onto the tears for a long as I could, but I could see from the mirror behind her that my pain wasn't hidden any longer. My pupils were glossy and burning beneath the light fixture.

  "I know he is. I only believe it's important for you both to live outside of each other."

  How could she comfort me and shoot me down all in one sentence? Wouldn't a normal mother, one that cared for her daughter's happiness, just let it be? Wouldn't she have held me to her heart and cried along with me? If only she cared like a mother should've.

  "Mom–" A knock from the door drew me away from the conversation. I walked off with a racing heart. The rage halted when the sound confirmed he was here. I reached for the door handle and threw my arms around Zach's neck. He squeezed me with one arm, then planted several kisses on top of my head. Only then did I allow the remaining tears to trickle down onto his black, Northface jacket. While in his arms, I breathed him in until I nearly collapsed. The room spun, but we traveled alone until I heard my mother's intrusive cough.

  "Oh...sorry, Mrs. Bissett." Zach unwrapped his arms but I remained attached. I didn't even turn back around to face my mother.

  "Have some shame, Chanel," she badgered in her usual tone that always shot into my core.

  In response, I led Zach right back out of the door. I ruled my present and my future. For now, with my boyfriend preparing to head off to school in another couple of minutes, my main desire became inundating our time with positive energies. Namely, our love.

  "Don't push her, Chanel." That was him. "She'll have no choice but to accept us some day." He never hated anyone, not even my insensitive mother. I couldn't ask for a more perfect guy.

  "When you're my husband," I hollered loud enough to make my voice carry.

  "And you, my wife." Zach's fingers gripped my wrist. He held on tightly, possessing me in a way only he could.

  "I love you, Zachary."

  "God, I'm so in love with you, Chanel Bissett. You're a beautiful angel walking on earth, and I'm the lucky bastard who'll get to keep you for all eternity."

  "It's not luck–"

  "Yeah, it is. I'm fricken lucky to have you. From the first time I saw you, I knew we were meant to be."

  The sun still slept, but the streetlights paved our way down the steps and to his Jeep. Stretching my neck to admire him, butterflies unleashed in the pit of my stomach. He'd allowed his thick, dark hair to grow out. Lush curls spread over every inch of his head, creating a halo-like outline. The windows to his soul were a crystal blue that shattered any others who dared step into our space.

  "You're purr-fect," I explicitly stated, flashing a mouth full of teeth. My arms slid beyond the opening of his jacket to squeeze his torso.

  Zach nudged me from his warmth. At three in the morning with the streetlights filtering from behind him, he became my sun, moon and stars. His fingertips caressed the center of my chin.

  "Nobody's perfect, baby, especially not me."

  I hung my mouth open in eager anticipation of his gentle lips crushing into mine. Moisture built between my thighs as I willed his tongue to dart into my mouth. And when it did, I held on with a fierce passion until his hold weakened. So, I launched my teeth down upon his lips, though not enough to draw blood.

  I needed more, something to solidify our bond. Over the years, I'd begged him to make love to me, to make a woman out of me. Zach never gave in. He'd only promise we'd get there one day.

  "Zach," I pleaded, as I'd done a zillion times, "before you go ..." I longed to feel the power of love plunging deep inside of me, to unite in a way only the truest of lovers ever could. As teenagers, we’d made a pact to save ourselves for marriage. How much longer would I have to wait? "What are we waiting on?"

  "Don't you think this is hard for me, Chanel? I'm trying to do the right thing by you. We have a lifetime ahead of us." He threw his hands into the air, then added distance between us. I slipped the ends of my plush pink sweater between my fingers. I was empty, alone, while Zach took loud breaths. The only visible angle happened to be his broad shoulders, the ones he'd started building up when we were in high school and he'd played varsity football. Everything else about him was slender, however.

  "What's wrong, Zach?" This distant person wasn't my man. I'd noticed a glitch in our times together over the past nine months. With his final year coming to an end after five with a double major in Computer Science and Finance taking a toll, I understood his frustrations. "You mean the world to me."

  Zach spun around. His hands pressed to my sides in a tight grip while he lifted me to meet his lips. At six foot three and a half, he gave me the strength to be invincible.

  "You're irresistible, baby. It'll happen, someday soon."

  I pressed my forehead to his soft lips, bare legs dangling in the air.

  "Everything you do turns me on. But you can't expect me to go crazy when I know your mom's probably staring out the window at us."

  "Forget about her. I mean, really, you're getting ready to leave me." I pressed into his embrace again, well aware that my mother was likely looking out of the window.

  She had a problem with my relationship.

  She felt we were too young.

  She didn't believe we'd last.

  I knew differently. Zachary Marlowe was my world. I was his. Up to this point, the years had only proven one thing:

  True. Love. Should. Last. Forever.

  II.

  Rhys

  (New York City)

  ~

  As the plane touched down onto the runway of JFK International Airport, I nudged my mom awake. Her thinning hair appeared matted in the back, but as I sought out her eyes, dull gray pupils filled with fresh tears.

  For the past six months, she'd gotten used to being happy away from a lonely life in one of the busiest cities in the world. She could be miserable and unhappy as hell. Can't say I felt her pain all of the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an insensitive prick or anything like that. I just so happened to live for the rush of the city, and would never give up on my home. I only needed this day to get going so that I could live again. Being stuck in the airplane wasn't helping any either, but I controlled my breathing and focused on what lay ahead.

  The flight had been half full, so we remained in our seats to let everyone else gather their bags first. I didn't want to rush things, so I tried to stay calm. In truth, it pained me to know that my happiness translated to mom's sadness, but we'd been away long enough. Home waited on us. And although it might not have been the case for her, I knew for a fact that someone special had been longing for my return.

  One hundred and eighty days was the limit.

  When I first told Maggie Cohn I would be traveling the world with my mom, my girl made me promise to return to her in one hundred and eighty days. Not return to the city or a life of being a Colburn; she had a desire for me. Our original flight had been booked for the following day, but I'd convinced my mom to let me surprise Maggie a day sooner. When I last spoke with her two days ago, I'd told her we were finishing up a tour in the Outback. We had actually started on our way back at the time.

  My upper lips flexed on their own while I made it a point to hide my smile. I felt like a damn clown...an oddball. Can't say I really cared how anyone perceived me right then, with the exception of one significant person. From the corner of my eyes, I connected with Lisle's timid stare. Growing up, things were different.
I was different. I wanted power and prestige, had even planned on world domination, but then I stepped into the real world and ventured into other cultures.

  While my father had been practically living at his office building off of Wall Street, my lonely, down to earth mother suggested we flee the States for a half-year getaway. But instead of venturing out in first class or splurging as usual, we blended in. She'd always wanted to backpack across the world, but Rupert would never cosign the ideal. Not that I got a kick out of being a travel companion to my mom; she just happened to be the only one I had. I'd be damned if she’d have done it alone.

  Ever since she'd read the novel and seen the movie Eat, Pray, Love, she desired to search for happiness. Instead of just going to Italy to eat, India to pray, and Indonesia to fall in love, Lisle wanted to take things further than the original memoir or movie ever went. In my mother's reality, marriage offered every material object her heart would ever desire. But with my father, she no longer had love or affection. She saw this journey as a form of much needed therapy.

  Actually, it had been in the making for many years. For whatever reason, she finally became brave enough to do something for herself instead of sitting around and having someone dictate her life.

  "Mom, you'll be fine," I comforted. I considered stopping to wrap my arms around her slender figure, right in the middle of the airport. Not only would it draw attention to her when attention was the last thing she craved, doing so would slow us down. It's not that she wasn't at the top of my list or anything. I was just desperate to get back to the woman I'd been planning my life for.

  "Rhys, thank you for coming with me." Her lips were a delicate sort of pink as she tucked them inside of her mouth. Her eyelids twitched as she fought to keep them wide. The tiniest hint of stress lines formed at the sides, small enough to hide in plain sight. I knew Lisle Colburn well enough to know when she was suffering. Hell, I hadn't seen her depressed or hurting over the course of our trip, so I damn sure knew what no longer fit.