by Beth Michele
As I pass Julian, I grip him by the back of the neck and squeeze, wanting to make sure he knows this is not about him. He gives me a small smile in acknowledgement, but his eyes betray his worry for me.
Outside, my feet pound the pavement until my chest burns and I have to pause to try to catch my breath. Sweat rushes down my skin and just like me, tries to find an escape. I break into a run, hoping to exhaust myself. Yet when my legs finally give out, that sense of being trapped is still there. Ember’s face pops into my head. And suddenly, I want to see her. Lay my head on her shoulder. Breathe her in. I want to touch her in all the ways she touches me. And that’s when it hits me.
I’m falling in love with her.
My heart threatens to burst and a laugh tears from my chest. Someone is playing a cruel joke on me, no doubt. But as the clouds open up, rain plummeting from a starless sky, I spread my arms wide to welcome it and for the first time, say—
I’m here life, come and get me.
Maybe I’m crazy, knowing what I do. What my future could possibly hold. But as the cool rain hits my skin, like little pinpricks tapping me and telling me to wake the fuck up, I give in and finally say yes to life. And whatever it has in store for me.
CLOTHES ARE BEING ripped from hangers at an unprecedented speed. Not only am I questioning what to wear, now I’m questioning my own sanity. I’ve never cared much about trying to impress anyone. But tonight is different.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, staring at the black lace bra and panties from Victoria’s Secret. Avery kindly emphasized you don’t call them underwear. And this is one time I’m thankful for Avery’s shopping prowess. But then I glance over at the massive stack of outfits in the no pile on my mattress. “This is crazy,” I say out loud, flinging my arms up and perching on the edge of the bed.
“What’s crazy?” Avery asks, strutting into the room and taking a seat next to me.
“I can’t find anything to wear tonight.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “This is my undesirable pile.”
She lifts a threadbare t-shirt with two fingers and winces like it has a disease. “I can see why.” My eyes narrow on her face. “Kidding. I’m kidding,” she adds, tossing the shirt behind her. “Why don’t you wear what you always do? Vance wants you, not your clothes.”
My hands quiver and I hold them out in front of me. “Look at this, I’m a nervous wreck.”
Avery takes my hand and tilts her head to meet my eyes. “Hey. You’re doing just fine. I’ll help you pick something out, okay?” I nod as she studies my face. “What do you know. You really care about him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Okay, then.” She lets my hand fall and stands up, rubbing her palms together. “Let’s find something that’s going to knock his socks off. Or,” she winks, “some other article of clothing.”
For the next half-hour, we dig through every other item of clothing in my closet and still come up short. When we’re done, I fall face down on the bed with a groan and Avery laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” I mumble into my blanket.
“No,” she laughs again, “it’s kind of adorable actually. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where am I going?” I grumble. “It was so much easier when I didn’t care.” My head sinks further into the mattress as her loud cackle echoes in the hallway.
“Okay, how do you feel about this?” she asks as she strolls back in. “It’s simple, but effective I think.”
“Do I have to move?” I whine. “I’m comfortable.”
She rounds the side of the bed and I drag my head up to stare at a jade green dress displayed on a hanger. “What do you think?”
“It’s short and very low cut.” My eyes drop to my chest then back to her. “I don’t have enough boobs for that dress.”
“Nonsense. This will squish them together and make them look fantastic.” She tugs on my hand to pull me up. “Come on, try it on.”
“Hello? Anyone home?”
My mouth falls open as my eyes widen. “Dad!” I whisper-shout. “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze climbs to the ceiling as if already hatching a plan. “Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of him.”
“Oh my God.” I scramble to the dresser to snatch up a tank top before yanking out a pair of shorts. In record time, I slide them both on, nearly falling over in the process. Avery shoves the dress under a pillow on my chair.
“Avery, Em, you decent?” Dad calls out. “I’m coming up.”
Avery parks herself in the doorway. Meanwhile, I sit in front of the clothes heap with my arms outstretched like they’re actually long enough to conceal my plight.
“Hey, honey.” Dad gives Avery a kiss on the cheek then peers around her body. “Hello there, Em.”
My smile and wave are a little too enthusiastic and he cocks his head the slightest bit. But I notice. “What’s going on? Going somewhere?”
“Yes.” Avery raises a pointed finger in the air. “As a matter of fact, we are.”
“Oh.” Dad frowns. “I called your Mom earlier and she mentioned she was away until tomorrow so I thought I’d take you both out to dinner tonight. It is Wednesday after all.”
“Geez Dad,” I chime in. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Yeah, me too,” Avery admits. “But… how about tomorrow?” Her voice has a cheery lift to it and Dad smiles, his earlier disappointment gone.
“Okay, that sounds like a date.” He rubs his round belly. “Shall we do Thai?”
“Yes!”
Avery and I respond at the same time.
His eyes grow thin, but his lips remain in a curve. “Gee, that’s an awful lot of enthusiasm for Thai food. Anyhow, I… guess I’ll be going then. You two enjoy,” he pauses, sucking on his cheek, “whatever it is you’re doing this evening. Can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow night.”
We’re quiet until we hear the front door close and then we can’t contain our laughter.
“Oh, God, he knows.” I flop back on my clothes mountain. “I’m certain of it.”
“He knows something,” she agrees. “He just doesn’t know exactly what. Now,” she pulls the dress out from underneath its hiding place, “about this dress.”
MY SMILE IS wide as I hike out of the bookstore, pretty fucking pleased with myself. I don’t know anything about sculpture, but the girl in the art section was more than helpful. Even if she was trying to shove her tits in my face the entire time.
I wanted to do something nice for Ember to let her know I’m thinking about her—about who she is and what she finds important. Again, I don’t understand shit about art but I’m willing to learn.
The parking garage is now packed with cars and it takes some effort to find mine in a sea of black. Once I do, I haul the door open and slide onto the leather seat, setting the wrapped book next to the bouquet of flowers. I’m not really a flowers type of guy, but the pink roses in the shop window made me think of Ember’s cheeks when she smiles.
My hands are clammy, sweat forming in the creases of my palms. It sends me back. I’m thirteen years old again, getting ready to kiss a girl for the first time. Everything with Ember feels like a first for me. I suppose that’s true in many ways.
The digital clock on the dash tells me I’ve got at least an hour before I need to be at Ember’s house. That gives me just enough time to get home and grab a shower.
When I turn down our street, my father’s BMW shines like a beacon in the driveway and I roll my eyes. Of all nights for him to be home, he had to pick this one. But I refuse to let him ruin my mood. Nor am I interested in having a confrontation. With any luck, he’ll be in his office and I can avoid him altogether.
Careful not to make too much noise, I insert the key in the lock then turn the knob with quiet precision. I’m almost to the stairs when I catch a glimpse of Dad slumped back in a chair at the dining room table. He looks like hell. His blue tie is loose around his neck, what appea
rs to be two-day-old stubble sitting on his chin. Eyes that are unfocused stare at a tumbler filled with ice and an amber liquid. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Scotch close by. My father is not a drinker, and while part of me still cares and wants to ensure he’s all right, the part of me that would rather avoid him wins out.
I maintain my direction, feet rushing toward the stairs until his strained voice makes me pause.
“I know you don’t think I care… but you couldn’t be further from the truth.”
What the hell does he know about the truth?
Not tonight, please not tonight.
I solidify my stance with a big breath before turning around to face him, preparing for a fight. Three bold strides in his direction, I stop, remembering to keep my distance. Not wanting to get too close to the insanity.
“She was my whole life,” he mutters, weary eyes staring at the now empty glass in his hand. “After she first got diagnosed, I used to stay awake every night beside her. I was terrified,” he admits, his weakened gaze meeting my hard one. “Terrified of falling asleep and then waking up in the morning to a stranger. Scared to death of the emptiness I might find in her eyes. And then… when it finally did happen and I had to put her in that home, it was worse than I ever could have imagined.
“Your mother and I, we made so many memories… we had a lot of years together before she got sick.” He shakes his head, his expression blank. “And all that has been washed away. Almost as if it never happened. But I’m reminded every day that it did happen.” He glances down at the ring on his finger. “Because she is the best part of me, and those were some of the best days of my life.”
Glazed-over eyes come back to mine. “You see your mother sitting in that facility, on that chair by the window.” He pauses to swallow. “But I see my heart.” A wretched sound lifts from his throat. “And it’s a devastation I can’t begin to describe to you. Like a missing piece of me that I will never get back.”
He pours more scotch into his glass, alcohol spilling over onto the polished wood. “You think you know so much,” he spits, his hand coming down on the table with a bang. “But you don’t know anything about how I feel or what the past six years have been like for me.” The edge in his voice softens. “You’re her son, Vance. But damn it, I’m her husband.”
I look into my father’s eyes, uncertain if this is the first time he’s showing me, or the first time I’m aware of it. But the sadness and despair that drips from them makes guilt eat away at my chest until I can no longer breathe. My inability to consider what he might be going through—what this has meant for his life and the life he created with my mother. I’ve been a selfish asshole in more ways than one.
My thoughts roam to Ember. I picture her sitting there with that same expression, that same pain, and it crushes me. Because, although we’ve just begun, I know what I feel for her and what we could be together. Internally, I berate myself. To think that I actually let it get this far. That I thought… it was even a possibility. I’ve been fooling myself. And her, too. It’s not fair.
The realization makes the bottom drop out of my stomach and my world. My shoulders curl inward and I grab onto the wall for support. But I need to carry myself through this. I refuse to drag anyone else down with me—least of all Ember.
“I’m… sorry, Dad. I know it’s not enough. But I’m sorry… for everything.”
I turn to leave but my feet are like lead, making it difficult to climb the stairs. My body refuses to cooperate with what my brain knows it has to do. When I reach the top step, my father’s words stop me again. “I understand. And I don’t blame you, son. It’s not your fault.”
I only hope Ember feels the same.
I’VE BEEN STARING at myself in the full-length mirror since Avery left. The dress she let me borrow was beautiful, sexy even, but it wasn’t me. In the end, I peeled it off and opted for a pair of skinny jeans and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt.
Standing in front of the mirror now, I smile. The tee is snug and hugs my breasts. My hair is down in waves, lips stained with a soft pink gloss. Of course I’m wearing the black lace. This is my little bit of sexy while still being me. I’ve never felt I had to be anything else with Vance, anyway.
The doorbell rings and the grin I’ve been harboring all day, broadens. I bolt down the stairs, darting to the dining room to light the candles before exhaling a giant breath and opening the door. Flowers and a beautifully wrapped package are what I notice first, and my heart skips. But when my gaze climbs to Vance’s face, the grin slips away. His cheeks are pale, mouth pulled tight.
“What is it? Is it your Mom?” I ask, stepping back so he can come inside.
“No, Ember. It’s not.” Vance holds the roses out in front of me. “I wanted you to have these. They… reminded me of you. And this.” He shakes his head and puts the package down on the corner table, releasing a breath filled with too many things I can’t identify. I swallow down the nervous ache in my throat, attempt to ignore the little voice telling me something is very wrong, and wait for him to elaborate. He rubs the back of his neck and stares off to the side, eyes glued to a spot on the wall. “I… this… we… we can’t do this.”
“Vance, look at me.” I place the flowers on the coffee table. “What can’t we do?”
His desperate gaze flicks to mine. He points a finger back and forth between us. “This.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know,” he whispers, moving closer until he’s standing in front of me. “Because I haven’t been honest with you. God,” his palm finds my cheek as his eyes search mine, “you’re so beautiful.”
The devastation on his face is too much and tears well in my eyes. “Vance, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“You have the most genuine heart,” his voice softens, “and I refuse to break it.” He makes a noise in his throat, engulfing the silence. “There’s not much in this world I’m afraid of,” he admits. His eyes roam everywhere; my hair, my cheeks, my chin, my lips, as if he’s memorizing me. “But what scares the absolute hell out of me, is the thought of not being able to remember your smile. Or your beautiful, beautiful eyes. Or the way your heart calls to me on some level I don’t understand. I don’t think I could take losing that… losing you.”
“Vance,” I plead. “Please, you’re not making any sense.”
He backs away, tugging hard at his hair. A quiet rage rolls off of him. “I’m going to end up like them. It’s inevitable.”
“Like who?”
“Take your pick, really.” He paces the carpet, feet wearing a hole in the small space. “My grandmother, my uncle… my mother.” His motion halts and his eyes lock on mine, empty and lost. “It’s genetic, Ember, and there’s a very high chance I’m going to end up the same way. Julian, he got tested already, but I never did. And now… I don’t know if I can handle it.”
“I understand.” I step closer, needing to be near him. “You have to get tested, though, Vance. I’m su—”
“I already have symptoms.”
“Oh, Vance.” I don’t know anything about this disease but I do know something about fear. I recognize it in his slumped posture, the quiver of his chin, the utter defeat in his gaze. The chill running through my veins. Everything hits me at once and I move to wrap my arms around him like a shield, wanting to protect him from everything bad.
“I… had some tests done and they called to let me know I need to come in to discuss the results, but….” His arms settle around me and he squeezes so hard I can barely breathe. “I’m really scared.”
I pull back enough to see his face, bringing my hands up to cradle his jaw. “I know, but Vance, you need to get those results. Knowing has to be better than living in fear, doesn’t it?”
He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes as if it hurts too much to look at me. Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispers, “I’m even more afraid now that I met you, now that I know I have something to lose. I couldn’t bear it if I broke your heart like that,
or if I could no longer remember you….” His words fade as he retreats to a place that is difficult to reach. But I refuse to give up.
“I… I already told you how hard it was for me after my brother died. What I didn’t say was that everyone kept telling me what to feel, how I should feel. But then… you came along. You stood back and allowed me to feel. You gave me room to breathe. And you reminded me of who I am. It was so subtle I almost didn’t realize it was happening. And my brother,” I smile, “he… taught me about life. Every time he jumped off a cliff or skied off the tallest mountain he took a risk. Because to him, that’s what life was all about. I care about you, Vance, and I know you care about me, too. Isn’t that worth the risk?”
His eyes snap open and he tilts his head back with fierce determination. “I’m not willing to risk your heart.”
“Damn it, Vance.” An unexpected passion sweeps over me, making me fight for what I want. “You don’t get to decide what happens with my heart. It’s my heart, my decision. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Besides, you can’t break my heart,” my voice quivers, “it cracked two years ago.” I smother any fear of being this bold and say the truest words I’ve ever spoken. “I want this. I want you here. I want you in my life. I want… I want you to touch me. You’re the only person I want to touch me.”
“God, Ember.” He breathes hard against my cheek. “I want to… how I want to—”
“But you won’t.”
“No.” He closes his eyes on another breath as if trying to gain resolve. A few seconds pass and his gaze is back on mine, forcing me to stare into those tormented eyes. “You have to understand. If I touch you, there won’t be any going back for me. Tonight, I… I finally saw the devastation in my father, and it made me realize how selfish I’ve been. I won’t do that to you.” His hand lifts but then drops away from my face, the lines around his eyes creased with pain. “I have to go,” he whispers, and I bow my head, quietly willing the tears not to fall.
When he reaches the door, he stands there, both of us silent for what feels like forever. I lift my chin as he raises his eyes to mine, and what I find there hurts my heart. I want to beg him to stay, to try to convince him that he could be wrong about everything. But the words don’t come.