“Okay, so you know four years ago when my parents pulled me out of college so that I could transfer to a university closer by?”
Marlene nodded with trepidation. “Yea…”
“Well, they did that because of something that happened one night when I went out drinking with my girlfriends.”
She gently removed the mug from my shaking hands so that coffee wouldn’t spill on the table. I interlaced my fingers in my lap but the tremors had move up my spine.
“Is it cold in here?” I asked, glancing at the thermostat.
“A little.” She rose from her chair and moments later returned with my pink, fluffy bathrobe. Draping it over my shoulders, I stuck my arms through the sleeves. “Better?” Marlene asked.
The heat from the sun itself wouldn’t have cured the chill that had set into my bones. Regardless, I didn’t want to worry Marlene. She was already looking at me as if she had the number for the psych ward on speed dial.
“So anyways, there was an incident,” I said. “Where…” My tongue knew what words to form but my mouth wouldn’t allow them to come forth. “Where…”
Marlene squeezed my thigh. “Honey, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay.”
“It’s been four years and thousands of dollars in therapy bills, I should be able to.”
“There isn’t a timeline for these things.”
“You sound like my therapist,” I mumbled.
Cracking a smile, Marlene leaned back in her chair and waited. Either I could proceed or let the monsters win. Squaring my shoulders, I mustered every ounce of moxie I had and let the story flow.
“I ended up drinking too much and wandered away from my friends. When I came to, I was pressed against a brick alleyway wall with a man’s hands around my throat.” Steadying my voice, I pressed on. “I’m not sure what his intentions were since he didn’t…” The word “rape” got caught in my throat. “It seemed like he wanted to show his friends how strong and manly he was by beating the crap out of a woman. When I tried to escape, he pulled out a knife.” My hand wandered to my neck at the memory of the cold steel blade pressed into my skin.
“Holy shit. How did you get away?”
“One of his friends said that an ugly bitch like me wasn’t worth going to jail for…”
Minus the sounds of Nil coloring, a heavy silence crept into the room. I removed myself from my chair and went to refill my coffee cup. As my hip leaned against the counter, instead of feeling emotionally exhausted, I felt proud of myself for being able to recount the worst moment of my life without throwing a paperweight against the wall. It was a big victory.
Marlene joined me in the kitchen with an anguished look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because you were pregnant and dealing with your own crap trying to figure out how to be a single mother.”
“But I should have been there for you.”
“You were. That summer we laid around and did nothing besides watch movies and eat junk food. That helped more than you know.”
“I guess.” She rested her hands on the slope of her belly. “Did you press charges against that sick asshole?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence.”
“How is that possible? There were witnesses to the assault.”
“None of them came forward.”
“For the sake of the child in the other room, I won’t express the curse words that are in my head but they’re colorful and incredibly creative.”
I grinned. “Duly noted.”
An impromptu hug knocked the air from lungs as Marlene smushed me against her. Her basketball of a stomach caused a five-inch gap between us.
“Thank you for sharing with me,” she said. “I know it wasn’t easy, but if anybody could get through something like that, it would be you. The strength you have never ceases to amaze me.”
Touched, I squeezed her back, grateful for our friendship. Breaking apart, we strolled into the dining room and reclaimed our seats.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing that wasn’t the reason behind your frown earlier,” Marlene surmised.
“No, it wasn’t.” Matthew’s weird behavior pushed itself to the forefront of my mind. “Whenever I mention my past around Matthew, he either runs out of the room and-or tries to make me leave, which is what happened last night. He said he doesn’t have time to fix me, but that’s not what I want from him.”
“What do you want?”
Her question gave me pause. “Nothing and everything.”
“Ah, wouldn’t it be nice if relationships were simple?”
“Then everybody would be in them.”
“Touché.”
Marlene peered at me over the rim of her coffee cup. “Have you gone into details about what exactly happened?”
“Yea…” My sentence petered out when it hit me that I hadn’t. Matthew knew some unnamed incident occurred to me but I had kept the logistics unclear. My mouth scrunched to the side. “No, I guess not.”
“But he acts cagey when you bring it up?”
“He definitely does, but that’s not the reason why. It just never occurred to me to expand on the story because he acts as if he already knows what the story is.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured as trepidation sank into my veins like ice.
Matthew being the monster would explain why he acted as if he didn’t deserve me. Also, the apology that had come out of left field. How though? Matthew was a lot of things, but he wasn’t vicious. I couldn’t imagine the words that monster had uttered coming out of Matthew’s mouth, not in a million years.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Marlene warned as if she could read my mind. “If he is anything like Luke, he has a healthy fear of commitment and is pushing you away because of that.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically.
Right then, Nil grew bored of coloring and crawled into the seat next to her mother. “Can I watch TV?”
Marlene sighed. “It’s too early for cartoons.”
“Then can we go to the museum?”
Shooting an apologetic look my way, she ruffled her daughter’s hair and complied. “Sure.
Do you want to come, Camille?”
“I’m meeting Matthew at his house in an hour.”
“Contain your excitement.”
“I wasn’t exactly invited.” Off her raised brows, I explained. “He attempted to break things off last night.”
“Don’t tell me, you steamrolled over him?”
My guilty silence was enough of an answer. Laughing, she raised her hand for a high-five. Since, I couldn’t leave her hanging, we slapped palms as my lips turned upwards.
“Grandma always recommended it, but I haven’t tried it,” Marlene said with awe.
“It works. Matthew didn’t know what to do. He was speechless. We’ll see what happens when I show up at his door this morning though. He might turn me away.”
“The steamroller is a two-part plan. You only implemented act one.”
“What’s act two then?”
“Wear your sexiest outfit. He will be too busy imagining other…” she paused, remembering her daughter was two feet away, “…things so that he will fail to remember your conversation.”
I wasn’t the kind of woman who used trickery on men, but I hadn’t met anybody who was as hot and cold as Matthew. I wanted to believe Marlene that it was a classic case of commitment phobia because the thought that I had given my trust to the one man I shouldn’t would shatter the shoddy world I had constructed with paper clips and tape.
Camille was late by ten minutes. I rechecked the clock. Now eleven minutes. A cocktail of disappointment and relief sat heavy in my stomach. Grabbing my guitar, I perched on the arm of my couch and plucked the strings. With the potential move to New York, there was a plethora of reasons I should end things between Camille and I. I had to put my feelings aside and be firm with her.
The doorbell chirped. I set my guitar down and I walked with heavy feet toward the entryway. My hand hovered above the doorknob as anxiety pulsed through my veins.
“Be firm,” I repeated.
Camille resorted to knocking, loudly and with great conviction. The door swung open and I lost all rational thought.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
A knit dress hugged her petite curves. Thigh high boots drew my gaze upwards to the bold red lipstick that stained her lips. I ached to kiss it off of her. Two pieces of hair escaped her loose bun, framing her oval face.
She melted me.
ME.
Rock star, Matthew Lee. Man whore extraordinaire.
Camille held up the picnic basket gripped in her hands. “I thought we could eat outside today.”
“It’s freezing out.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” A secretive grin spread across her angelic face. “Besides, I have a trick up my sleeve.”
I was weak against the magnetism that was Camille. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break things off with her. I might as well have waved a white flag in the air and admitted defeat. Whatever days, hours, or minutes we had left would be worth the hole in my chest once our relationship imploded. My heart had never felt fuller; my soul had never felt lighter.
I returned her smile with my own. “Are you taking charge now?”
“I figured it would be safer. How’s your nose?”
“Dandy. How are your knuckles?”
“Sore.”
“Figured.” We grinned at each other like a couple of fools. “One second. I have to grab my keys and we can go.”
After locking up, we rode the elevator down to the lobby where I waved at Manny, the security guard on duty. He gave me a sly thumbs up behind Camille’s back. Proud that she was with me, my palm pressed to the spot inches above her ass as I led her outside. We stood under the awning of my apartment building to get out of the way of the bustling pedestrians.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Volunteer Park.”
“Sounds good.”
As I stepped into the throngs of people, I glanced back at Camille. A pensive expression written on her face, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What’s wrong?”
“You sure you want to do this?”
“Go on a picnic with you? Yea, I’m sure. I’ve been inside working on music, so it will be nice to breathe in some fresh air. Also, your company isn’t so bad either,” I joked.
“No, I mean…” she gestured between us. “This. Us. Last night, you wanted me out of your life.”
I ducked back under the awning. “That was rash of me. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
The pain in her emerald green eyes cut me to the quick. “You said you don’t have time to fix a broken girl, which is hilarious because I don’t have time to deal with a man who plays a game that I don’t know how to win. This was a stupid idea. I should have let sleeping dogs lie and not steamrolled over you.”
“Camille, listen to me.” Tucking a stranding of hair behind her ear, the depth of my feelings toward her filtered into my tone. “I’m glad you didn’t allow me to sabotage this. You are the best part of my day and the first person I think about when I wake up. I know I’m not easy…”
She snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“But let’s enjoy today, have a picnic, and gorge ourselves on delicious food. You can hate me tomorrow.”
That provoked Camille’s frown to turn upside down. “Deal, but only because I’m starving.”
Outstretching my hand, she accepted the olive branch and grasped my palm. We strode up the steep hills toward Capitol Hill. Passing a French bakery, Camille shot a longing look at the window display of baguettes in wicker baskets.
“Let’s go inside,” I suggested.
“It’s fine. My hips don’t need the extra sugar.”
“Do you have dessert for the picnic?”
“I have fruit.”
“Pshh. Fruit isn’t dessert. We need something chocolaty and something tart.”
Camille smiled. “Is that your expert opinion?”
“It is, so scoot, young lady. We’re on a mission.”
Ten minutes later, we exited the bakery with a mini chocolate hazelnut mousse cake and a slice of key lime cheesecake.
Camille sought my hand as we continued our journey to the park. “Would you rather not be able to taste or see?”
“See. You?”
“Same. Even though I don’t know how to cook, I still appreciate a rare steak drenched in butter. Your turn.”
Unbeknownst to Camille, I was a bit of a master at would-you-rather. My bandmates and I played the game during long stretches in between tour stops. Luke and I had the best questions followed by Sean.
“Would you rather be able to see ten minutes into the future or three years?”
“That’s a hard one.” Her mouth puckered as she mulled it over. “Ten minutes. I don’t want the full scope on how different life will be.”
“That’s where I disagree. For me, three years because I need to know if my childhood dream of flying cars and robot dogs are a reality.”
“You’re such a nerd.”
“I’m aware.”
Laughing, Camille led me to the Conservatory. A glass structure that housed rare plants and cacti in a balmy atmosphere that allowed them to thrive. The hours listed on the door showed it was closed.
“No worries. We can sit outside and share body heat for warmth,” I said.
“I think that only works if you get naked first.”
“I’m not opposed to that.”
Camille knocked on the door. Seconds later, a young woman appeared and unlocked it.
Shooting a smug look over her shoulder, she grinned. “You’re not the only one with connections.”
The young woman greeted Camille as if they were old friends. “Hey!”
“Hey. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, but you’re limited to an hour; my boss would freak if he found out that I let anybody in here during off hours.”
“An hour is more than generous.”
She stepped aside to let us through. Entering the Conservatory, it felt a thousand degrees warmer than outside. Lush plants spilled onto the walkway and hung from the ceiling. We had left Seattle behind for the jungle.
“Have fun,” the young woman said and walked in the opposite direction.
Camille and I located a spot in the Bromeliad House. Digging into the picnic basket, I set up the feast that Camille had packed.
“Jesus, it’s enough for fifty people,” I said.
“That’s why you shouldn’t go grocery shopping when you’re hungry. It’s the equivalent of going when you’re high.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t walk out with five boxes of Oreos.”
“I considered it, but Oreos and cheese didn’t sound like a good combination.”
“Smart call.”
Camille handed me the corkscrew and I popped open the wine bottle. Pouring the red liquid into the plastic cups, we sipped the fruity beverage. My cell phone buzzed in my jean’s pocket. Sometimes I longed for the days when you could actually escape work and not have to fly to a remote island to do so.
“Sorry,” I said to Camille. “I’ll switch it to silent.”
My mother’s face flashed on the call screen. We’d talked earlier this morning about her knitting group so there was no reason for her to be ringing me again. Unless it was an emergency.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I told her.
“No worries.”
My finger pressed the answer button with dread.
“Hey, Mom. Is everything okay?”
“Your sister and her husband are moving.” She exhaled a long breath. “To India.”
“Which sister? I have three.”
The panic abated
to mild annoyance. I didn’t want to be bothered with family dynamics while I was on a date with Camille.
“Are you listening to me, Matthew?!” she squawked. “India! That’s a fifteen-hour plane ride. I’m never going to see my grandbabies again.”
“Mom, you’re being a tad overdramatic. I’m sure this is hard for…” I trailed off, waiting for her to supply the name.
“Cindy doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She said it’s an amazing opportunity for David, but I don’t understand. He can sell fridges here.”
Cindy was my oldest sister who had gotten married two years ago. In that span of time, they had popped out two kids, a boy and a girl, and bought a charming ranch-style house down the street from my mother. David sold kitchen appliances while my sister was a stay-at-home mom. They lived a simple existence, but I’d always known Cindy longed for an adventure. I’m glad she was getting one.
Camille gave me a questioning glance. I rolled my eyes and mouthed “family drama.” Understanding crossed her face. Offering me some privacy, she disappeared into another branch of the Conservatory.
“I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you back?”
“None of my kids have time for me anymore. Once you hit sixty, you’re chopped liver.”
“You’re fifty-eight.”
She brushed aside my correction. “Whatever. I need you to fly home and attend Cindy’s going away party. It might be the last time we are all together as a family.”
“When is it?”
“This Saturday.”
I nearly choked in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? That’s three days from now.”
“So? Use that fancy money you have to buy yourself a ticket. I don’t want to hear any excuses, Matthew Jayden Lee,” She said, busting out my full name to show she meant business. “You need to be here.”
“I just can’t drop everything and fly home.”
“Drop what exactly? You don’t have a job.”
My teeth grated together, grinding them into fine dust. “I have a job. I’m a musician who plays sold out venues around the world.”
“Okay, sweetie.” Her tone was patronizing as if my success meant nothing. “I need to run. Your dad is hollering for me. I’ll see you on Saturday. Kisses!”
Broken Lullabies Page 13