It was a drunk driver who took her from me. A man, who when they arrested him, was still saying he wasn’t drunk. That’s what the news reported and what I’d heard around school. No one tried to talk to me about it anymore though. I didn’t know how I got through the day because I blinked and I was home again, crawling into bed, barely sleeping at night, and getting up the next day to do it all over again.
That I passed sophomore year was thanks to the teachers who’d loved Tyra. They looked out for me, and until my head cleared enough to function more easily, they let things slide. Months later, when the circles under my eyes weren’t quite as dark and I was more present in class, I was able to catch up at my own pace.
Heather sniffed around some to see if I was ready to fight back and expose her secret, but when she saw how I could barely get through the day, she left me alone. I didn’t thank her for that either, but I was grateful. Nothing mattered anymore.
* * *
Over the summer, when I started to feel more like myself, the pain of losing Tyra really hit. When my mum left for work and returned and I still hadn’t gotten out of bed, she came in and pulled the covers off of me.
“Get up. I need my daughter back,” she said. “Tomorrow I expect you to start looking for a job. If you don’t get one in the next week, I’ll make you come work at the real estate office with me, and you know how boring that will be.”
I rolled my eyes and stood up, stretching, and my mum gasped.
“Since when are you so much taller than me?” She pulled me over by her and we looked in the mirror. I was a good four inches taller than her. “You must have grown half a foot since summer started.” She pinched my side and I yelped. “What the bloody hell?” she hollered. “There’s nothing to ya. You’re skin and bones. Are you not eating?”
I plopped down on the bed and fell back. “I could never be skin and bones,” I told her. “I’m eating. Just haven’t been as hungry.”
“What did you eat today?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in on me, as she cinched my shirt together.
“Toast and fruit for breakfast, chicken salad on a croissant for lunch, and I was waiting to see if you’d make dinner,” I said.
“Hmm. Well, I know I’ve seen you mostly horizontal for months, so this skinny, stretched out business has me gobsmacked.” She glared at me again. “You promise you’re telling the truth about eating?”
“Yes,” I groaned. “Fix me dinner and I’ll show you,” I said and she smiled.
“It’s good to see my girl,” she said. “Tonight, we’re measuring you against the doorframe. I can’t believe it. I know I’ve always said you were just a late bloomer like me and your gran, but I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna be a shorty like your Grammy Hart.” She laughed and went to the door. “How about we go out for dinner and get you some new clothes?”
“I don’t know…” I frowned. I didn’t want to leave my room.
She held up her finger. “No arguing…you’ll need clothes for this new job you’ll be getting.”
“Right,” I dragged out.
* * *
I hadn’t really believed my mother, but when I got in a dressing room and all my normal sizes were too short and super baggy, I realized she was right. I asked her to get a size smaller and it was still too big. Four sizes smaller and I stared with shock in the mirror.
I could hear Tyra’s voice in my head. “Damn, girl, you’re looking good!”
And for the first time since she’d died, I giggled. I shimmied into a pair of jeans I wouldn’t have been caught dead in before and stared at myself.
“Weird,” I whispered.
I was still curvy, but for someone who’d always had extra rolls and dimples and had been termed pudgy since I’d moved to California, there was now definition.
* * *
I went home with a new wardrobe, and the next day, I got up and looked online for jobs. I didn’t see any that looked exciting, but I filled out applications anyway. That evening, when Mum came home from work, I told her about the places I’d tried.
“None of them look interesting though,” I said.
“Well, keep looking. I want you to find something that’s at least somewhat fun.”
A few days later, she sent me to the grocery store while she ran into another store nearby, and on the window of a salon I’d never been in but had always wanted to try, there was a sign about a job.
I walked inside and admired the place. It was bustling, but cheerful and clean. The receptionist asked if I had an appointment.
“I wondered if I could fill out an application.”
“Lord, yes. We are in dire need. I’m Liesl, the owner, and I’d rather be cutting hair, but I’m answering phones and trying my best to keep the place clean.” She was petite and spoke almost faster than I could keep up with, but I knew right away that I liked her. Her hair was blond with pink streaks and her makeup was divine. “Fill this out, make sure to let me know your availability, and I’ll look it over as soon as you’re done.”
Once I’d given the form to her, we had the interview right then and there, and I went home with the job. I started the next morning and quickly fell in love with the job, the regulars, and my co-workers. I worked hard that summer and the best part of being around Liesl was that she carried on where Tyra had left off in one regard—she helped me find my confidence.
* * *
Liesl came flying in the door one morning. “I have a wedding this weekend and Sajel has pneumonia. Are you free? I know you’re ready. I’d much rather have you do makeup than take someone from Sajel’s team that I don’t know.”
“Are you sure I’m ready?” I asked, my heart pumping with excitement. “School starts the week after next, so I am free.”
“Hells yeah, you’re ready,” she said, grinning. “This is going to be way more fun. I’ve been dying for you to come do this with me. I’ll show you pictures of what the bride is thinking when we have a lull later.”
I went home and opened up the pictures, practicing on myself until I thought I had it right.
The day of the wedding, Liesl came to pick me up at seven in the morning, but I’d already been up for hours. Since I was too excited to sleep much, my hair was in perfect shiny waves, pulled back on top so it wouldn’t get in my way. My makeup was on point. I wore a top that made my blue eyes bluer and dress pants that fit perfectly.
It had been nine months since Tyra had been gone, but I felt like she’d put in a word for me up above—good things were happening. I still missed her every minute of every day, couldn’t talk about her yet—who knew how I’d feel once school started—but she was with me. She’d be proud of me for getting back up.
“Whoa,” I said, as we pulled into the circular drive of a house even bigger than Jaxson’s. We’d done a practice run at the shop with the bride the day before and she’d been so down-to-earth. “This is where Jenna lives?”
“I think it might be.” Liesl laughed. “Damn, I should’ve charged her a lot more.”
We were still laughing when we got to the door and it opened before we could knock.
“I’m Sandy, Jenna’s mother. Come on back.” She led us through the jaw-dropping house and knocked on a bedroom door.
Liesl and I got to work setting up our stations. I did Sandy’s makeup while Liesl curled Jenna’s hair and then we swapped. They sipped champagne and got happier the more time passed. When I finished Jenna’s makeup and turned her toward the mirror, she lit up when she saw herself, fanning herself to stop the tears. I decided then that I wanted to spend my life trying to make people happy like this.
Bridesmaids trickled in and I continued working, feeling energized by the hour. I loved pulling out each person’s best features and making them feel good about themselves.
After their pictures, we freshened up hair and makeup and packed up our things as the wedding was about to start. Since the wedding was to be in the back garden, we were leaving as guests were arriving.
I took a load out to the car and came back in to help Liesl, turning to go down the hall and colliding with someone.
“Watch it!” she said. Then she stared me up and down, having to look up at me now instead of down—so weird—and her nose curled up in distaste. “What are you doing here?” she finally asked.
“Heather,” I responded.
“Well,” she said, waving her hand for me to come out with it.
“None of your business,” I said quietly.
She looked me up and down again, her expression darkening.
“You have something to say or can you just bugger off already?” I said, trying to move past her.
“You’ve lost like a hundred pounds, good for you,” she said.
I could tell when she got her bearings back because she grinned then, like a tiger about to go in for the kill.
“For a while I wondered if Jax was saving himself for, I don’t know…a childhood friend…it’s crazy, but I did wonder. It was ridiculous though, because this summer…” She shook her head and bit her lip, her teeth slashing white daggers against her dark red lips. “Well, let’s just say, we’ve had quite the summer. He had a lot of time to make up for.”
Liesl walked out then, saving me from making a fool of myself. She took one look at my face and grabbed my arm.
“There you are,” she said and hustled us out of there.
“See you at school.” I heard Heather call out before I shut the door behind me.
I didn’t know which hurt worse: that he hadn’t been having sex with Heather as long as I’d assumed and now he was, or if I’d gotten my act together sooner in the summer, maybe I could’ve done something to prevent it.
19
Present
DD, Apparently pain meds and I should never dare meet. This tongue of mine gets me in trouble…I can tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the relaxed shoulder that he was not carrying around before I partook.
Save me,
Mira
When I wake up the next morning, Jaxson is sitting next to me in bed, hair still wet from his shower, and reading.
“I’ve never seen you read a book. You finally learned to read?” I tease, wincing when I move.
“Very funny. Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks, adjusting the pillow under my foot.
“It hurts like a mother,” I groan. “Where are my happy pills?”
He laughs. “You were happy all right. And so entertaining,” he adds, tapping my nose. “And sweet.”
I glare at him and decide to try to make the trek to the bathroom. “Did I do anything to embarrass myself? I don’t really remember anything except for a supreme state of well-being.”
His grin grows and it makes me nervous.
“What? What did I say?” A vague memory of us chatting while I was in the tub comes back. “Did you see me naked?” I yell.
He stands up and hurries to the other side of the bed and helps me hobble to the bathroom. “No, I did not see you naked. You had bubbles, and I kept my eyes averted the whole…most of the time. I might have seen the tiniest edge of your, uh, your areola, but I very quickly looked away.”
I shake my head and scoff. “You’re such a perv.”
“What can I say? You’re beautiful. It was excruciating to look away—everything inside me wanted to stare—but I did not take advantage, I promise. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but now I’m terrified to take the pills. You look far too smug for my liking.”
“You didn’t say anything embarrassing. You were refreshingly honest,” he says.
“Refreshingly honest,” I humph.
I shut the door on him and scowl at myself in the mirror. I wonder what I said but decide I can’t worry about it; my ankle hurts too much to go without the meds today. I clean up and Jaxson taps on the door.
“Do you need me to help you get dressed?” he asks.
“You’ve lost your mind!” I call back.
He laughs. “And she’s back,” he says.
“I don’t even want to know what that means, do I?”
“Nope,” he says, stepping away from the door.
It takes forever, shuffling around to get into clean shorts and a tank top, but I manage to do it without his help. I put on a little mascara and lip gloss but still look out of it. When I hobble out, his eyes zero in on my chest. I look down and my nipples are standing at attention.
“Get your eyes back in your head. I can’t bra today. Sorry. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”
“And I’ve dreamed of them every day since,” he says, rubbing his lips together. “It’s like a gift from the nipple gods. Thank you.”
He turns around and I think he’s adjusting himself.
I roll my eyes. “Boys are such dolts.”
“I’m a dolt for you, that’s for certain.”
I have to suck in my cheeks to keep from laughing at that. I climb onto the bed and he brings the room service menu to me.
“How about we order one of everything? I’m starving,” he says. “And the doc said today and probably tomorrow, we should try to beat the pain with the meds, so let’s get you fed and medicated.”
“Mm-hmm, you just want to have an arsenal to make fun of me with…”
He makes a face of mock horror. “Never.”
* * *
Later, after we’re flipping through the channels after pigging out, I look at him. “I’m sorry for ruining our day in New York.”
“Are you kidding? I’m having the best time. I don’t care what we do, Bells. I mean…it’s kind of weird that every time we try to follow the list, it backfires, but…I like what we’ve done with it. Don’t you? Except for the part where you broke your ankle because that really blows…” He shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. “I’m an idiot. It all blows, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to be in Paris and we’re stuck here in this hotel room.”
“We’ve definitely made the best of the situation.” I look at him and he puts his hand on mine, slowly tickling my fingers. We both watch his hand as it traces little swirls across my skin and I shiver.
“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask…well, not really, but I have to know anyway. What’s going on with you and Chad?”
“We broke up,” I say and he threads his fingers through mine. I give him an incredulous look and pull my hand away. “Which changes nothing.”
“No, it doesn’t change much,” he agrees, “but it’s a step in the right direction.”
“Not for you,” I say cheekily. “I do miss sex though. How long has it been for you?” I turn to face him and spit out a string of curses for the stinking albatross that is my ankle.
He puts his hand on my arm and his expression is pained. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s not so bad if I don’t make sudden movements.” I get comfortable in the new position and motion my hand for him to talk.
“I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“We can’t talk about sex? Why not? You want to be friends, right? Isn’t this what friends do—talk about everything?”
“No, I don’t want to be—I mean, I do, I do want us to be friends, but I want so much more than that. I’m afraid anything I say about this will just make you hate me more—”
“Because you’re a manwhore?”
He rubs his hand across his face and laughs, but it sounds bleak. “I’m not. Not anymore. Never, really…not in comparison with most of my friends, anyway.”
“I’m kidding. I can’t talk really. I’ve given it up for more people than I expected to by now.”
He groans and pounds the back of his head against the headboard. “I really, really don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Either we’re going to be friends after this trip or we’re going our separate ways once and for all, don’t you think? Why not say everything?”
“I refuse to let us go our separate ways,” he says. “And you might not remember everything we say anywa
y, while you’re in this state—maybe that’s a good thing,” he adds. “I have so many regrets, and it makes me sick when I think about all the roadblocks I put between us. I acted like a raging hormone and lost sight of everything for a while. But when I woke up…” He looks at me and his eyes are so sad, I reach out and touch his cheek.
His bottom lip is so full and begging to be touched. I stare at how perfect his mouth is and then up to his eyes, which hypnotize me. Come closer, they whisper. I’m powerless when he looks at me like this. Our lips barely touch, but one of us shocks the other, a tiny electric spark that jolts us. We pull back, his thumb sweeping across my lips, and he groans before pulling my mouth to his. He keeps one hand on my face and the other drags through my hair, gripping me tighter. The kiss deepens and there is no awkwardness trying to recall how we best work together. Our memory serves us well. It’s still magic. And something more, something explosive that time apart has only magnified.
We explore each other like our taste fulfills every craving, and it’s how I feel—I never want it to end. He’s everything I want, everything I need. When he pulls back, I whimper and he kisses along my jaw and up to my ear, teasing me. His fingers slide back and forth under the strap of my tank top, and then his mouth moves down my neck and lower, but not past the material. His nose dips into the valley between my breasts and his tongue traces a trail from there and up, up to my neck so painfully slow, until he reaches my lips again. I can’t take it anymore, and I pull his face to mine and kiss him until we’re breathless.
I yank his shirt off and he stares at me then, chest heaving, pupils dilated. My nipples hurt, straining against my shirt and he flicks his thumb across one, making my back arch.
“God, Mira. I want you so much,” he whispers, his mouth crashing against mine.
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