Beautiful Boy

by Leddy Harper

  When my lips parted, so did hers, and our tongues met, working together as if we’d done this our entire lives. As if our mouths, our bodies, our hearts had always belonged together. Two halves of the same whole, finally reuniting after a lifetime apart.

  Her hips began to roll. She pressed her pelvic bone against mine, and the inferno in my gut turned into a reckless, inextinguishable fire, capable of complete destruction. It decimated my thoughts and charred my instinctive nature. But then she moaned, her lips vibrating against mine, and it proved to be the bucket of water needed to bring me back to the moment.

  I pulled my mouth from hers and buried my face in her neck. Hot, muggy breaths billowed around me as I panted against the T-shirt at her shoulder, the material soaking up the heat and scorching my face. Novah’s fingers trailed to the back of my head where she began scratching the short hairs beneath her fingernails. It soothed my mind, but did nothing to help ease the erratic beats of my heart.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured into her shoulder.

  “It’s okay. I’m still here if you want to finish talking. I interrupted you; I shouldn’t have done that. But if you’re done talking, I get it. I’d understand if you can’t tell me more.”

  I longed to look her in the eye. Desire clouded my mind and left me with the need to strip her of her clothes and bury myself in her. But I couldn’t do anything. Instead, I kept my face hidden and tucked her against me with my arms firmly wrapped around her back.

  “I did a fifteen-month tour in Afghanistan. Really, you’re only supposed to be gone for twelve months at the most…and then home for twelve. But with everything going on over there, it didn’t quite work out that way. When I was done, I came home for six months, and then they shipped me off again—to Iraq. And I only came home because our convoy was blown up by an IED. I was sent to Germany for medical treatment, and then back here to the States.”

  She lifted my head from her shoulder and searched my eyes for something—I didn’t know what. But I met her gaze and let her look for it anyway.

  “I’m sorry, Novah, but I can’t say more. I can’t relive it. I do enough of that in my head. The nightmares sometimes don’t stop when I’m awake, and they haunt me everywhere I go. So if you can’t succeed in making me see the good in things, don’t take it personally. I have a hard time seeing past the horrible memories to find anything worth looking at.”

  Her lips pressed gently to my forehead before she leaned over and grabbed her phone off the blue bench seat next to us. Still in my lap, she unlocked her phone and then began to swipe the screen.

  When she turned the phone around for me to see, a photo of a headlight filled the screen. I finally pulled my arms out from behind her and took the phone, examining the picture in front of me. It awed me. Rich light from the setting sun hit the glass at such an angle it made the headlight appear to be on, shining like it was driving on the street instead of left behind in a junkyard.

  I swiped the screen to find the next picture. Two old, rusted-out Beetles sat side by side with high weeds surrounding them. Nothing else was in the shot. It appeared as if these two cars were sitting alone on the side of a highway—old and deserted, but they had each other. The next was of a stack of tires with a lone Osprey perched on top, looking at something off to its side.

  “Wow, these are amazing,” I said as I continued to move through the pictures before pausing on one. Forearms propped on the top of a beaten-down truck, forehead pressed against the dirty windowpane. It was a close-up, not even fully catching the back, but it was known by the posture that the person in the picture had been bent over. It was of me. She must’ve taken the photo while I leaned in to check out the interior of the early model Chevy truck.

  My gaze lifted to hers. Her genuine grin seemed more evident in her bright eyes than on her pouty lips.

  “When you first got here, you talked about these cars and these things like they were trash, left aside for something better. Discarded because they were useless and unwanted.” She licked her bottom lip and then clamped it between her teeth for a moment. “Is that something you can relate to?”

  The rain hitting the windshield grew louder, even though I was aware the clouds were passing and the rain had slowed. But right then, being more exposed than ever before, it became the only sound I could focus on, making it seem louder and angrier as it pinged off the roof of the car.

  “If that’s how you took it…”

  “That’s not what I asked, Nolan. I want to know how you feel? I can’t show you something if I don’t know what you see when you look at it.” Her soft exhale licked my cheek and then fanned across my entire face, adding to the already overpowering mugginess inside the car.

  Unable to talk with my gaze set on hers, I turned my head toward the window. “In 2003, my parents moved to Tallahassee and my dad announced his candidacy for the presidential race. That was before I was sent to Iraq. To him, having a son in the Army, fighting for our country, would boost his likability. It meant he was relatable to the people with family members overseas, while at the same time, gave him credibility to those who opposed the war. The whole, ‘see, I understand your fear,’ while at the same time saying, ‘I don’t want this war to continue, either, because my son is over there.’ Although, I doubt he had much fear, nor did he really care how many tours I did.”

  “That can’t be true. He’s your dad.”

  I glanced back at her, ran my fingertip down her cheek, and stopped at her jawline. “My father’s whole life has been in politics. To him, it’s all about winning the race, looking good to the public. It’s never been about being a good dad. I was never anything other than a prop. The all-star football player. The kid with perfect grades. The all-American boy to the all-American dad. It’s all I ever was to him. And when he decided to run for the big house, I became the warrior, the hero, the soldier. Never was I ever just his son.”

  Tears filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks in fat drops as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” I held her face in the palms of my hands and swiped my thumbs beneath her eyes. “I’ve never known anything different, so I have no idea what I’m missing out on. It’s always been this way, and it always will be.”

  Her fingers wrapped tightly around my wrists. She held me to her as if her life depended on my touch.

  “He had to drop out of the race after the accident, which sucked because he was actually ahead in the polls. It was right before the primary election in 2004. He wasn’t very happy about it, which pretty much set the mood for my recovery. I’d gone from being his son who was off fighting for our country to being the son who had cost him the White House.”

  “He didn’t care that you were injured?”

  I tried to smile, but the poor attempt failed. It left my chin quivering and forced me to close my eyes, preventing her from seeing my true reaction. “He cared in his own way. But I’m sure he would’ve preferred it if my accident had happened at a different time. Had it happened earlier, he could use my disability in the race. If I’d been blown up later, after he won, then he could’ve used it to gain sympathy, and possibly used it for talking points depending on his stance regarding the war.”

  “If it happened in 2004, why did it take you eleven years to come back here?”

  “Mostly because of my mom. But I had years of rehabilitation, therapy, doctors appointments. I’ve gone through more prosthetics than I can count. More shrinks than I’d like to remember. And once the dust began to settle, I went to school. I got my business degree—which irritated my dad to no end. He wanted me to go into politics like him, but it’s never interested me.”

  “What is it you wanted to do?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. Growing up, I had lots of things I wanted to do, but none of them were ever good enough for my dad. I loved photography, but he said it was a dead-end job. He said it was fine as a hobby, but he’d never pay for school for me to take pictures. So when
he sent me off to the Army, it wasn’t that big of a deal, because it’s not like I had much else to do. And the Army afforded me to go to college, without having stipulations on what I went for.”

  The waning light in the sky had finally vanished, leaving us cloaked in utter darkness. It made the melancholy running through her hard to see, but it was palpable in her deep, full breaths, the slow, long exhales, and the gentle way her thumbs stroked over the tops of my hands.

  “What do you do now? I mean, I know you have a security company, but what do you do?”

  “I provide retail stores with loss prevention officers. My guys catch shoplifters. Most of the time, I’m in the office running the administrative side, but I also fill in where I’m needed.”

  “Do you at least like what you do?”

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t really see. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t hate it. Is it something I’m passionate about? Not really. But it’s my own company, and I like that. I like the control it provides.”

  “Why do you need the control?”

  “All my life I never had any. Now I do.” I glanced beyond her to the windshield, noticing the absence of raindrops. “It’s dark, and we’re in a junkyard. I think we should probably head out.”

  After opening up to her so much, telling her things I never meant to, I was depleted of energy. I felt worn out and mentally exhausted. But at the same time, her presence somewhat energized me, led me to believe having her in my life could be a good thing.

  As we walked back to our cars, her closeness offered me an unfamiliar sense of security. For the first time in fifteen years, I didn’t see myself as a broken piece of worthless junk. Novah made me feel wanted, desired…like I was worth something to someone. And I knew right then and there I had to see her again.

  Nine

  In the last two days, I’d seen Novah once—for five minutes. Aside from her one brief visit, I’d been left with nothing but my thoughts of her and a few text messages. I became concerned I’d scared her off, that my openness had been too much for her to handle, but her text messages were kind and heartfelt—even if they were short.

  Thursday had been the hardest. I was needed for a shift at a local grocery store to fill in for a sick employee. Keeping an eye out for shoplifters while pretending to be just another customer in the store isn’t really a difficult job. It doesn’t require much other than staying incognito. However, it’s not so easy when you’re stuck in a constant daydream about a gorgeous blonde with eyes the color of the Caribbean waters. Somehow, I’d managed to make it through the day and even caught a few lowlifes trying to walk out with product in their pockets.

  Shortly after lunch on Friday, Novah dropped by my office unannounced. Surprised wouldn’t begin to explain my reaction to seeing her. It was as if my thoughts had conjured her up in the flesh, and had brought her to me.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked after she sat down in the chair across from me at my desk.

  The ability to form a response evaded me, my thoughts too tied up with her presence. I could tell she’d come from work considering her hair was curled and she had makeup on. She also wore dressy pants and a nice top. It’d be a lie if I said she wasn’t unbelievably gorgeous, but I still preferred to see her dressed down.

  “Oh, that was a stupid question. Of course I can’t ask you to trust me so soon. I’m sorry. Forget I even said anything.”

  She leaned forward, as if bracing herself to stand, but I stopped her before she could rise to her feet. Sure, trust is something earned and should never be handed out like candy. However, Novah wasn’t some stranger to me.

  We’d only “known” each other for a few months in school before I had to leave, and even then, we’d never spoken until the end, but it never mattered. For whatever reason, our one brief encounter was enough to stick with me for so many years. Everything about her—from what I’d known of her—followed me everywhere: overseas, into battle, throughout recovery.

  Trusting her wasn’t a choice…it’d been something so engrained in me I’d lose if I ever tried to fight it.

  “Wait, Novah. Please tell me what you came here for. You obviously had a reason to come here. Don’t just give up and leave.”

  She relaxed in her chair but began to twiddle her fingers, keeping her attention in her lap and looking every bit as nervous as I felt. “Well, I was going to ask if I might be able to borrow your house key. Our dinner the other night was ruined, and I wanted to do something nice for you. I figured since it’s the weekend, we won’t have to worry about calling it an early night. But I understand if it’s too much too soon to let me into your home without you being there.”

  I didn’t need a second to think about it. If she’d asked me to give her a kidney, I’d use my letter opener right then and there to retrieve it for her. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t give her, and I couldn’t comprehend why. The only thing I could come up with was how she’d offered me peace when I had needed it the most, and for that, I’d give her everything.

  Keeping my gaze locked on her reserved posture, desperately craving to see her eyes, I dug around in my pocket for my key ring. I then blindly pulled my car and office key off before holding the rest out for her on my opened palm.

  Her eyes grew large as she studied the ring of keys in my outstretched hand. Confusion lit her face and arched her eyebrows, her lips slightly parted as her chest rose and fell heavily with each dramatic breath she took. If I listened closely, I’m sure I could’ve heard the heavy beats of her heart, matching my own.

  “Here, take them. I’m leaving here at five, and it takes me about twenty minutes to get home. You’ll be there, right? Or should I wait for you?”

  She reached for the keys. Her hands slightly shook as her sight lifted to my eyes. “Yeah, uh… I’m actually done for the day, so I’ll head up to the store and then go straight to your place. As long as you’re sure you’re okay with it…”

  “I wouldn’t give you my keys if I wasn’t. But I have to admit, it feels wrong allowing you to do this for me. I’m the one who ruined dinner the other night—shouldn’t I be the one making it up to you?”

  “No. I want to do this for you.”

  I blew a slow exhale through my tight lips and nodded, conceding to her wishes. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon watching the clock, convinced time had stood still—or gone backward.

  At a quarter to five, I closed my computer down and locked up my office. I’d told her I would leave at five, so to make up the difference in time, I decided to stop by a store to pick up some flowers and a bottle of wine. Knowing her, she would probably have wine there, but after ruining the last bottle she’d brought over, I wanted to offer some sort of gesture to make up for it.

  Since I’d given Novah the elevator key, I had to wait for the guard to let me up, which only took about three minutes, but knowing what awaited me upstairs, it seemed more like three hours.

  With every step down the long corridor to my door, profound, unrelenting beats of my heart echoed in my ears. And once I stood with my hand on the doorknob, I had to take a moment to catch my breath. My erratic breathing made it seem like I’d run up the stairs instead of riding in the elevator, and my head whirled like I’d just gotten off one of those zero-gravity rides at a carnival. That’s what Novah had done to me. Ever since high school, the mere thought of her could send my entire existence into a tailspin. It made me feel like I’d been untethered from my body and left to float away.

  But nothing could’ve prepared me for what I walked in on once I opened the door. A rich, herbal aroma filtered into the hallway, forcing my stomach to rumble and reminded me of the lunch I’d skipped. Soft notes of a piano drifted over me as music played in the background.

  I anxiously stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Setting the wine and flowers down on a table next to the front door, I took a few more steps, taking everything in.

  Photos of all sizes hung on the walls, lining them from the kitchen in
to the bare living room. Except the living room wasn’t so bare anymore. A large, woven rug sat in the center of the room beneath a coffee table I’d never seen before. I stood still, unable to move as I glanced around the room. My gaze skimmed from one thing to the next before my attention abruptly halted on one of the photos hanging on the small wall between the living room and entryway. It was a picture Novah had taken on her phone at the junkyard two days before. I glanced around at the others, noticing they were all from the same night.

  “I hope you like it.” Her voice came from behind me, but it didn’t keep me from examining the art in front of me.

  “You…redecorated my house?” I slowly turned around, taking in everything around me until I came face to face with her. Annoyance filled me, but it quickly dissipated once I caught the hesitation in her soft eyes and slouched shoulders.

  “Just hear me out, please.”

  She held her hands up, silently requesting a moment to explain, but all I saw was a scared woman, and it nearly brought me to my knees. I never intentionally wanted to frighten her. I never wanted to see fear in her eyes or make her worried to tell me anything. To ease the tension surrounding us like a heavy fog at the top of a mountain, I pressed my palms to hers, lacing our fingers together until she inhaled deeply and visibly relaxed.

  “You told me that before you can see what’s beautiful inside, you must first see it around yourself. I thought if I gave you something to see, it might be easier for you to recognize it. But if you don’t like it, I can take it all away. I just thought you’d like to have something to remind you of our time from the other night. I don’t know about you, but it really meant something to me.”

  I glanced behind me at the room once more, holding her hands tightly. “The pictures can stay…but not the rug or the table.”