Life In Reverse

by Beth Michele

  “Wait a minute.” The cab pulls to a stop in front of my building and he reaches over to pay the fare. He doesn’t miss a beat though. As soon as we step out onto the sidewalk, he continues his tirade. “Let me get this straight. First it’s the location, and now it’s our ages. Which is it?” A frown tugs on one side of his mouth as he holds the glass door open. “Or, is it just that you don’t want to marry me?”

  “Look, Grant.” I pause in the center of the lobby, inspecting the floor for an answer that won’t make him feel bad. “I’m just really tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “Okay.” My gaze lifts and he cups my cheek with a soft smile. “I don’t mean to push, I just love you, you know.” His eyes search mine and I know he’s waiting for me to say the words, but I’m not ready. I can’t admit to something that I don’t feel. It’s not who I am. The silence lengthens and he exhales a deep sigh. “Come on then. I’ll walk you up.”

  We step off the elevator, his fierce attention making me want to climb the walls. With any luck, Avery will be home. All I want right now is to hang out with my sister and eat ice cream straight out of the carton.

  The door clicks open and I let out an easy breath the moment I cross the threshold. I love our apartment. Avery and I wanted it to be simple, yet comfortable. And it is. With a little help from Mom, we chose to paint the walls in a light sage green and picked out two oversized buttery leather sofas, the focal point of the living room. An old, refurbished trunk sits between them that Avery discovered at this great vintage furniture shop in Midtown.

  The scent of my favorite cinnamon apple candles slides under my nose and I inhale with a smile. From the looks of things, Avery must have felt guilty about our earlier argument regarding her messiness. Clothes that were hanging over chairs and shopping bags left on the carpet are gone. The faint sound of music flows out from her room and I breathe a muffled sigh of relief.

  “Would you mind if I have a nightcap before I go?” Grant asks, and I direct my irritation toward the ceiling.

  “Sure.” I drop my coat on the sofa, then breeze past my favorite Mickey Mouse painting I bought from a street vendor last year. “Is wine okay? We don’t have much else,” I mention as Grant follows me to the kitchen. The space is not small by any stretch, with two walls of cabinets and a miniature farm-style table, but his six foot two frame suddenly makes me feel claustrophobic.

  “It’s great.” He hovers over me as I pour the wine into a glass. “Thanks, babe.”

  I sneak around him, failing to understand what my problem is. I’m… antsy, and want to run around and throw open the windows to breathe in the outside air. “I’ll be right back. Just want to use the bathroom.”

  “Okay, babe.”

  Behind the safety of the closed door, I draw in a breath then let it out. Then I head straight for the sink, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on my face. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me tonight, but I don’t feel like myself. Maybe it’s Grant’s insistence on the whole marriage thing, I don’t know. How can you want to marry someone who hasn’t even told you they love you? I don’t get it. Beyond that, I realize we’ve been friends for almost a year and a half, and dating several months. Maybe that should be enough.

  Patting my face dry with a nearby towel, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. The green eyes that stare back at me are dull, my cheeks paler than usual. Regardless, I steady myself with a big breath and traipse back out to the living room. I’m planning to ask Grant if we can call it a night when I freeze, my legs nearly buckling beneath me.

  “Put that down.” The words come out much harsher than I intended. Grant flinches, immediately setting my book on the table. I can’t believe I forgot to put it away.

  “I’m sorry,” he starts. “I was just—”

  “It’s okay.” I cross the room until I’m standing in front of him, then take his hand and hope my expression conveys my apology. “I’m sorry, Grant.” My shoulders dip right along with the rest of my spirits. “Listen, I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day and I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “Sure, babe. No worries.” He hesitates before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. I can’t blame him for being apprehensive. I’ve been all over the place tonight. With one last glance, he grabs his jacket and heads out the door. As soon as it shuts, I sag against the wall, my gaze wandering to the book. After staring at it for far too long, I walk over to pick it up then drop down on the sofa. My hand is unsteady as I open it to the first page.

  “He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

  I thought Tolstoy said it better than I ever could.

  xoxo Vance

  I close my eyes, desperately trying to push it all away. But the hurt is still there. Sometimes it hides behind other things. Like a smile that’s a little too bright, or a laugh that’s much too loud. But I’m trying to move on. I have to move on. After all, it’s been three years. Vance didn’t even attempt to search for me. It was pretty easy for him to toss me aside, and that’s what makes my heart resent him—or want to, anyway.

  Still, he continues to invade my mind. He won’t leave me alone. Those blue eyes and that crooked grin. That damn earring he used to tug on all the time. I miss our talks and the way he used to hold my hand, my face, my heart. And I wonder if he’s okay, if he’s healthy. The thought of him not being well makes my stomach clench. I slam the book down on the couch, slouching deeper into the leather.

  “Whoa, whoa. Does someone need anger management classes?” Avery jumps on the sofa and I lunge for the book, shifting it to my other side. “Protective much?”

  “No. It’s just that the book—”

  “Means a lot to you.” She lowers her body until her head rests on my shoulder. “I know.”

  “It’s just a book,” I pout, heaving my feet onto the trunk. “Any chance we still have that half-gallon of cookies & cream in the freezer?”

  “We do.”

  “Two spoons. No bowls.”

  Before the words are out of my mouth, she’s sprinting to the kitchen. “Oh,” she calls back. “Dad sent us a package and there was a puzzle in there for you.” A drawer slams closed. “He misses us.”

  “I miss him too,” I mumble.

  “Just what the doctor ordered.” She settles next to me and digs her spoon into the ice cream, scooping out a chunk of Oreo. “So tell me. How was your night with the even-keeled one?” she asks dryly, and I glare at her.

  “It was fine. We went out for Thai food and then a movie. He wanted to go back to that bar we went to a few months ago to see that band he likes. But I wasn’t in the mood for anything loud.”

  “I just want you to know,” she taps her spoon against her mouth, “that every time I ask how your night was with Grant, you say fine.”

  Swirls of vanilla suddenly capture my interest. “He still wants me to marry him, practically asked me again tonight.”

  “Again? First of all, you haven’t been dating that long and second, you haven’t even had sex with him.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You certainly can’t marry someone until you know if you’re sexually compatible.”

  I frown. “Yes, but we’ve known each other for a while. I feel bad. He’s such a nice guy… and I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot, Em.” She bangs her spoon against mine to get my attention and I look up at her. “He just may not be the right guy for you. When the right guy comes along, you’ll be ready.”

  “Yeah. Given that I’m such an expert on relationships.” I laugh, and she joins in. “I have too many other things to focus on anyway. Work, school, my sculpting….”

  “Kickboxing classes at the gym with your sister.”

  “I didn’t agree to that,” I retort, shoveling a heap of ice cream into my mouth.

  “You did,” she counters with a not-so-innocent grin.

  Since I know my sister, I crack a suspicious smile
. “It must have been under duress because I don’t remember.”

  “You remember…,” she drops her spoon into the ice cream and pats her stomach, “everything.” Her expression turns somber. “Seriously, though. I think you’re doing really well. I honestly can’t remember the last time you had a ‘no bowls’ kind of night.”

  “Yeah.” I huff out a long, uneven breath. “I’m getting there.”

  Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll finally believe it.

  DARK CLOUDS INVADE the sky, various shades of gray reflective of my state of mind as we arrive at Chris’s house. The threat of an impending storm chases us. My brain following the same pattern—flooded with chaotic thoughts that all lead to one person.

  We pull up to the saltbox colonial, the home that Chris’s mom and dad have owned for the past two years since moving from Oregon to New York. Wanting to be closer to their son but not being city people, they found a compromise in a suburban area of Westchester.

  “Am I going to have to d-deal with this the entire day? It is my birthday, you know.” Chris exits the car, and I slide the yellow tulips from the seat and slam the door.

  “Deal with what?” I ask, caught in his rigid stare.

  He stops short of the front door, hands plastered on his hips. “Really? You’re going to p-play innocent with me? You forget how well I know you.” He sighs, glancing over at the bushes then back to me. “Listen, Vance. I honestly thought your days of brooding were over. But ever since you saw Ember a few months ago in the bar, you’ve gotten worse. You could’ve gone up to talk to her and you chose not to. You could’ve looked for her after. I just… don’t get it. But three months of your moping is my limit. I’m tapped out.” The dirty look I throw his way doesn’t faze him. “Remember what I said. Either do something about it or let it go.” His eyebrow shoots up. “It’s not like you don’t have choices. Girls crawl all over you. It’s disgusting, really.”

  That night in the bar plays on repeat like a fucking movie reel in my mind. I’m still trying to grasp the fact that Ember was at my mother’s funeral and never came over to me. Even Julian didn’t know she was there. Then again, she probably thought I wanted nothing to do with her. I guess my walking away made that pretty clear. Though it was the furthest thing from the truth. There didn’t seem to be any other way.

  “Do we have to talk about this shit? How about we go celebrate your birthday?” I grin, and he glares at me before knocking twice.

  The door swings open and pint-sized Riley greets us with a toothy grin. “Unca Vance, Unca Vance. Unca Vaaaaaaaance is hewe!”

  “Nice,” Chris mumbles. “My own b-brother cares more about you than he does me.”

  I clap him on the back, wearing a proud smile. “Oh relax, birthday boy. He fucking sees you all the time.” I smirk. “I’m a novelty.” Then I wink, passing him the flowers. “Hold these, will ya?”

  We barely make it into the house before Riley tackles me, almost knocking me over. I pretend to fall back and he giggles. Lifting him in the air, I let him hang there. “Hey, shortstuff. How ya been?”

  “Gooooooood.”

  “I see you still have your exaggerated vowel tendency.” His button nose scrunches as I blow a giant raspberry against his stomach, complete with sound effects. He squeals before I swing him around then gently set him down on his feet.

  “Agaaaaaaaain,” he shouts as he spins in dizzying circles and falls on his tiny behind.

  Chris’s mom emerges from the kitchen with a bright smile, wearing the frayed apron Chris made for her in middle school. Her blunt cut bangs highlight her big brown eyes, mouth covered in the same pink lipstick she’s worn for years.

  “Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She makes a smacking sound and blows Chris a kiss. “You two are just in time. I made a fresh batch of Chris’s favorite cookies. Would you like some cookies and milk to tide you over?”

  Chris leans over and whispers to me. “She still thinks b-because I stutter I’m ten years old.”

  “I heard that, Christopher James.”

  “Well, Jesus, Mom. C-come on. Milk and cookies? Don’t you have any hair of the dog? It was a long night.”

  Little Riley scratches his mop of dark hair and those big blue eyes turn inward. “We don’t have a haiwy dog, Chwissy.” He yanks on Mrs. Raven’s skirt. “Mommy, can we get a haiwy dog?”

  “Come here, you.” I waggle my finger and Riley edges closer with big, excited eyes.

  “Do you have a secwet Unca?”

  I squat down, lowering myself to his level. “I was thinking maybe this week I could take you into the city. We can go to the toy store and you can pick out a new superhero for your collection.”

  The giant smile on his face tugs at my heart. “Yes!”

  “Okay.” I muss his floppy hair. “I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll pick a day.”

  “Yipeeeeeeee.”

  As I push to my feet, Chris gestures to the flowers in his hand. I take them, and catch a faint sigh drifting over from his mom. Given that I used to bring flowers to my own mother, this is as much for me as it is for her. “These are for you, Mrs. Raven.”

  She closes her fingers around the crinkled tissue paper, her round cheeks glowing. “So formal, Vance. You know we don’t do formal here.” She opens her arms wide. “Get over here and give me a hug this instant.”

  The sweet smell of vanilla bombards me as I walk into her embrace. It takes me back to those days after school, when Julian and I would blast into the house to find Mom in the kitchen baking her all-natural cakes. Her arms are suddenly too tight around me, squeezing the spot inside my chest that is still raw. But whether I want to admit it or not, I need this. So I relax into her and let her carry me for a few precious seconds.

  “Okay.” She grips my shoulders and steps back. “Now let me see these flowers.” She brings them to her nose and inhales. “These are beauties. Thank you, Vance. I’m going to put them in water.” Her gaze roams to the flight of stairs. “Dan, pry yourself away from those video games,” she calls out. “The boys are here.”

  “We’re m-men, aren’t we?” Chris snickers and I laugh, while his mom glances over with a hint of amusement on her face.

  “Why don’t you men take a load off,” she tosses back over her shoulder. “And I’ll bring out something to keep you until we have dinner. Dad should be down in a minute. Riley, why don’t you come help me with the cookies.” He flaps his arms like a bird and zooms into the kitchen. I can’t resist the smile that breaks out on my face. Riley was adopted as a baby four years ago after his fucked-up parents abandoned him to focus on their drug habit. To see him this happy and cared for is remarkable.

  “It’s great what your mom and dad did for Riley.”

  “Yeah, I m-mean, the adoption took a long time to finally go through and they practically had to jump through hoops. But it was totally worth it. Besides, since I was gone, my mom needed someone else to fawn over. And… I love that little guy.” He settles onto the couch and grabs a pillow, tucking it under his chin. “You’re really good with him, Vance. Someday you’ll be a great dad. Of course,” he chuckles, “you need to be having sex to make that happen.”

  My lips form a snarl and I lob a pillow at his head. “You’re a real comedian today. And just for the record, smartass, I’m having plenty of sex.”

  “With what, your hand?”

  “What’s this about hands?” Chris’s dad walks over, extending his arm in my direction. As I stand, he pulls me in for a hug. “Good to see you, son.”

  “You too, Mr. Raven.”

  He releases me and takes a seat next to Chris, playfully punching him on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday, kiddo.” Slinging an arm over the back of the couch, he gestures toward Chris with his thumb. “I just saw this one the other day. Did he tell you I whipped his behind in chess?”

  “Is that so?” I settle back against the sofa and glare at Chris. “It must have slipped his mind.”

  “Remember all those chess
competitions you two used to have when you were young? Such a great game to know how to play.” He taps the side of his head. “A real thinking game, keeps your mind going.” He opens his mouth, but then he frowns. “I’m sorry, Vance. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” I shoot him a genuine smile. “Don’t even think twice about it.” He sends me an empathetic nod before changing the subject.

  “So what’s new with the consulting business?” He gives Chris’s knee a squeeze. “You monkeys still considering hiring someone?”

  “Yeah, Dad. We’re d-definitely going to get someone else on board. We’ve recently gotten some new clients, and we’re really busy setting up networks, doing administration—”

  “That reminds me,” I chime in. “I’m heading over near Rockefeller Center tomorrow to set up a cloud server for that new marketing company we met with last week. I’ll probably be there most of the day. Were you planning on coming with me?”

  “Actually, I’ll—”

  Chris’s words are cut off by a loud crack of thunder. Riley bolts into the room and jumps onto my lap. He burrows his head under my arm, his small body racked with tears.

  “Hey, it’s okay, buddy.” I pat his back with my hand. “It’s just a little thunder,” I whisper, but his tears keep coming.

  “It’s scawy… it makes me think a monstew is coming aftew me,” he muffles through a stuffy nose, something hard digging into my ribs.

  I stroke the top of his head, my thoughts straying to Ember and her fear of thunderstorms. I wonder if a storm blankets the city now. And if someone is holding her, too. Ignoring the thickness in my throat, I focus on Riley. “You know what, little guy. Someone special once told me that when you hear thunder, it’s because the angels are bowling in the sky.”

  His head lifts, eyes brimming with that childlike curiosity. “Weally?” Red, puffy cheeks fill up with air and he looks down at my lap as if he’s thinking hard. “You mean, they pway games up thewe?”

  “They do.” I smile, tweaking his nose.