Storms Over Secrets

by J. A. Derouen

  “How about a foot up your ass,” I mutter under my breath.

  “There’s the Celia I know. It’s about time.” Marlo slaps my back. “Now if you’d just inject a little of that sass into your love life, maybe you wouldn’t have to take call twenty-four hours a day to distract yourself.”

  I shake my head and exhale an irritated breath. I know how it looks to everyone watching. I’m the fool who can’t move on with her life. I’m the stupid girl who clings to the past and refuses to see the wonderful man standing right in front of her. I want to yell, “I see him! I love him!” but that will only pose more questions. I’m not ready for that, so I do what I do best. I shoot for vague. I strive for ambiguous. I evade.

  “Things aren’t that simple, Marlo. Not everything in this world is black and white.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Huh?”

  “I call bullshit.” She rolls her eyes and huffs at me. “Look, Cain’s had his eye on you for what feels like an eternity. I knew how he felt before you and I ever met. This isn’t breaking news to me. But I’ve noticed over the past few months, Celia, you’ve started watching him, too. At first, it was out of curiosity, but over time it’s changed. It’s evolved from friendship, to flirty, to, dare I say, love?”

  She eyes me and cocks her head in question, but I bite my lip and remain silent. By the smirk on her face, my expression tells my story even though I don’t say a word.

  “Right. So, as I was saying, he’s been waiting for you for much longer than you realize. And as delectable as you are, you sweet little thing, a man can only be pushed away so many times. I’d hate for you to wake up one day and find you’ve missed the Cain Train. He’s not my type, like at all, but he’s got his own swagger, ya know? He’s all ‘Oh, I’m so tall. Look at my ginormous green bean,’” Marlo mimics in a deep, husky voice while grabbing her crotch.

  “What the hell? Green bean?”

  “You know, because he’s the Jolly Green Giant,” she explains, staring at me expectantly. I shake my head, and she waves me off. “Oh, whatever! You know what I mean. Why am I talking about the man’s green bean?”

  “More like bean stalk…” I chuckle to lighten the mood.

  “Ugh, Celia! My ears can’t un-hear that shit!” She covers her ears and pouts at me. “Anyway, I may give him a hard time, but I know he would do anything to fix things with you. The question is, what are you willing to do for him?”

  “All I can offer Cain is my friendship,” I whisper. “He wants more from me than I’m able to give. If I can’t be everything for him, he wants nothing at all. I have to respect his wishes.”

  “Right,” Marlo says, drawing out the word. We walk out together, arm in arm, and she stops me before we walk through the doorway. “Take it from someone who knows all too well what it feels like to wait for someone to wake the fuck up. The day will come when he gives up on you, Celia. You will lose him.”

  Her goal may be to spur me into action. She wants me to feel the urgency of her words and race to Cain’s side. Knowing that’s exactly what I want to do, but can’t, makes me nauseous and weak. The thought of seeing Cain with someone else is unimaginable, but I’m in no position to stop it from happening. I give her a nod and a tight smile, hoping she’ll accept my response as the end of the conversation.

  “I have to say, I don’t see you as the type to wait for anyone. I take you for a leave ‘em in the dust kind of girl,” I say with a shoulder bump.

  After tonight, it’s become clear to me I don’t know Marlo as well as I thought I did. I should know better; things are never as they seem.

  We emerge from the hospital as the sun is slowly rising. The backs of my eyes throb from lack of sleep and the change in light. I wince and groan as I fumble for my sunglasses.

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t always that girl,” Marlo says somberly. She looks away and bites her lip. “Listen, what you heard in there? No one knows anything about—”

  “And they never will. I would never break your trust,” I interrupt. She gives me a tiny smile in return. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Since you didn’t press charges, are you worried that—”

  “No. I don’t give him a second of my thoughts.” Marlo lifts her head defiantly as we walk across the parking lot. I sense her words are less than truthful, but it’s what she needs to believe. “I left town within a week of the attack and never set foot back there again. I’ve had no contact with anyone from my past since then. Those memories and that place don’t own me anymore.”

  I unlock the door to my car and throw my bag in the back seat. I meet Marlo by the trunk and tip my head toward the hospital. “Do you think she’ll press charges?”

  She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. She’s got both of our numbers, and I hope she’ll use them, and that she can pull through this. She’s got a tough road ahead,” she says as she tugs her keys out of her purse. “You’re coming to The Courtyard next Friday night, right? Adam’s performing for open mic night.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Seriously, why do I surround myself with lovesick fools?” Marlo asks with a playful smile.

  “Whatever. You’d be lost without us.”

  She narrows her eyes at me, and I giggle.

  We wave goodbye, and my door is nearly closed when I hear Marlo shout my name. I peer out of the car.

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember what I said, girl. He’s not gonna wait forever, and regret is a bitch with six-inch heels digging into your lady parts.”

  She tosses her big curls over her shoulder with a wink and struts across the parking lot like she owns the place. Honestly, Marlo owns whatever room she walks into, and this parking lot is no different.

  After she leaves, the air around me seems vacant and lonely. The loss of her snarky mouth and larger than life personality are tangible, and I’m left feeling empty and … regretful. Her warning settles in my bones, travels through my veins, and circles around my heart.

  I sit in my car, stock-still, ignition off. My hands grip the steering wheel as sweat beads on my upper lip, and unshed tears burn the back of my nose. There is one thing Marlo and I agree on—I will lose him.

  “Best of You” by Foo Fighters

  Present Day

  “CAN WE USE these chairs since you aren’t using them.” The random girl in the red tube top is dragging two chairs away before we even have a chance to answer her.

  Sara slams a hand down on each seat and glares at her. “These seats are saved,” she says with the intensity of a middle school brat.

  Tube Top rolls her eyes and huffs, but leaves the chairs behind. Sara pulls them back under the table and drapes her arms and legs over as many chairs as she physically can.

  “They better hurry their asses up … the vultures are circling,” she mutters.

  It’s open mic at The Courtyard, and Adam’s performing. Sara and I managed to snag the front and center table for our crew, but we’re gonna get bulldozed by the masses if they don’t get moving.

  “Thanks for coming early and helping me out, Cain. I wouldn’t stand a chance by myself.” She smiles at me, but her expression turns to a growl as more chair stealers approach.

  “Don’t mention it, Cujo. I’m starting to think I’m protecting the crowds from you, not the other way around.”

  She throws her hand up in the air. “I mean, seriously, are their boyfriends performing tonight. I highly doubt it.”

  Her eyes shift to the stage, and a love sick smile plays on her lips. She’s got it bad, and good thing for her, so does Adam. If you’re gonna be a fool for someone, it pays to be sure they are equally as much a fool for you. That’s where I missed the fucking boat.

  “Who are we expecting at this shindig?”

  “Hmmm, why do you ask? Are you avoiding someone in particular?”

  “I’m about to be avoiding you, if you keep up the Nancy Drew bit.” I take a pull off my beer and give her a warning glare. “Curiosity killed the cat, ya know?”


  “Meow.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I also can’t help throwing balled up napkins at her nosy little head, but she takes it in stride, using them to dab her makeup and stuff her bra. I have to hand it to him; Adam snagged one of the good ones.

  “Look, all I know is two of my favorite people seem to be avoiding each other, and it’s harshing my mellow, man.”

  “Far be it from me to harsh your mellow,” I deadpan.

  “And newsflash,” she quips with a pointed finger and raised eyebrows. “You and Celia as a team? Y’all are fucking awesome. You all by your lonesome? Only slightly awesome. It’s like cookies with no milk … peas without the carrots … a massage with no happy ending. Think about it.”

  Her head bobs up and down, and I smile despite myself.

  “Ya know what I think? You and loverboy with Lily and Gage? Life of the party. Just the two of ya?” I shrug and roll my eyes. “Snoozeville.”

  She gasps and clutches her chest. “How dare you?”

  “Oh, I dare. I always do. Now, guest list, if you please.”

  She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Marlo, Alex, and Celia are meeting us. Happy?”

  “As a clam,” I reply with crossed arms and a smile.

  And I am happy, because while I’ll have to sit across from Celia and act as if I don’t miss the hell out of her, at least I won’t have Audrey to contend with. I haven’t given her a piece of my mind yet, but it’s coming—that’s a fact. Honestly, I’m still too fucking pissed to look at her, much less talk to her. Yeah, distance from Audrey is necessary at this point.

  Sara squeals and bounces in her seat, waving. I turn around and see Alex, Marlo, and Celia standing in the entryway. Celia is wearing a baby blue sundress that shows off her delicate curves and way too much leg—in my opinion. Whether she agrees or not, those legs are for my eyes only. My eyes travel up her hot little body, and, when I reach her face, I see the daisy behind her ear. The sight makes seeing her hurt a little more. She’s a mirage to a man who’s dying of thirst.

  She fidgets with her purse straps and gives Sara a nervous wave. Her eyes settle on me, and she winces. She fucking winces, as if the sight of me causes her physical pain. I know the feeling.

  Let’s get this over with.

  I spend the evening throwing in a random comment or two when necessary and pounding Rolling Rocks like a champ. It turns out the best way to keep my mind off the fairy sitting across from me is a single-minded focus on getting piss-ass drunk. I’m far exceeding expectations, and I’ll now have to hitch a ride home.

  It doesn’t take long for the conversation to turn to Alex and the mystery man from her past. Since Alex is my weekly golf buddy, I’m well versed on this topic. Alex found her boyfriend from years ago, West, hiding in plain sight in Providence. While she had dreams of rekindling their relationship, he had other plans, mainly staying as far away from Alex as possible. West is a war vet, and he bears the scars of a soldier, both inside and out. He’s doing a bang job of pushing her away, and that’s his right, but when I hear her say he spent their entire golf game verbally attacking her and then left her without a word, I see red. How could anyone be so cruel, especially to a cool chick like Alex? It turns out I’m not the only one who agrees.

  “That jackhole.”

  “Douche city.”

  “I’ll kick that fucker’s ass,” I add as I crack my knuckles. War vet or not, nobody fucks with my friends.

  Celia shakes her head as we all dish out insults. “Remember what I told you. You’re gonna have to fight for the both of you.”

  Alex sighs and tries to straighten her slumped shoulders. “It’s a set back, absolutely. But I’m not ready to throw in the towel. He’s gonna have to do better than that. Or worse, I should say.”

  Celia stands and smiles at Alex. “There’s my girl. I knew you had it in you. Now, the ladies room is calling. I’ll be back.”

  You’re gonna have to fight for the both of you? Are those her sage words of advice? As we sit with a table between us, a piece of wood that feels more like a continental divide, I wonder who will fight for us?

  I watch her turn around and weave her way through the tables and people. My recent actions don’t feel rational any more. Keeping my distance seems ridiculous and counterproductive. What in the hell was I thinking?

  “Excuse me,” I mumble as I stand up and follow Celia to the back of the bar.

  I round the corner into the deserted hallway just before Celia walks into the bathroom. I call out her name, and her spine stiffens at the sound of my voice. She turns slowly to face me, and I keep walking until I’ve cornered her against the wall. I bend down and crowd her nose to nose, breath to breath, just the way she’s been crowding my thoughts for months. I rest my forehead on hers and breathe in, the familiar scent of honeysuckles assaulting me.

  “Cain, I … we can’t,” she whispers as a shuddered breath leaves her lips. Her fingers curl around my shirt, fisting it tightly.

  “I know he was the love of your life. I get it, I really do. But what if I told you that you were mine? I have enough love for the both us. I know I do.” I close my eyes and wish it all away—whatever it is that is tearing her apart piece by piece. Ragged breaths flow between us, saying more than any words can. “Tink, what if there was only you and me? No past, no ties, just a blank slate…”

  A guttural sob escapes her body, and she tightens her grip on my shirt. I pull her close and hold on tight.

  She pulls back and places her hands on my cheeks, tears and pain filling her eyes. “The hurt I’ll cause you will far outweigh any love you hold for me.”

  “Impossible. You grossly underestimate my ability to love, Tink.”

  She watches her fingers as they travel down my chest, landing at my waist. She grips my shirt and releases a ragged breath.

  “And you underestimate my ability to cause pain.”

  She sobs as the words leave her mouth, and I can’t take another second of this. I crash my lips to hers and take what I want … what I need. I want to swallow her grief and replace it with every magical and hypnotic feeling she breathes into me. I want her to know she is more than her sorrow.

  She falls into me, if only for a moment, and I’m lost in sweet lips and salty tears. She lets her instincts and the undeniable chemistry between us guide her for a few seconds before her fucking head takes over. Her body tenses in denial, hands pushing away, body swaying, her lips ripping from mine. She covers her mouth with her hand and runs from me, leaving only her whispered plea echoing in the hallway.

  “Move on, Cain.”

  The shot glasses line the bar like tiny trophies, although there is nothing celebratory about them. No matter how many I add to the stack, I can’t make my mind incoherent enough to forget this fucking night. No amount of whiskey can erase the truth.

  She doesn’t want me.

  I’ve been clinging to the hope that time would fix things between us. I hoped she would come to her senses and admit she misses me as much as I miss her. As much as it hurts to admit it, it’s clear now she only misses her friend. She doesn’t love me the way I love her. I feel like such an idiot. I could feel it … I could feel her. How could I have been so wrong about this?

  After the confrontation by the bathroom, I left without a word of goodbye to anyone. I couldn’t breathe, and the pressure in my head was blinding. I ended up at Smitty’s, a dive bar a few doors down from The Courtyard. It’s as good a place as any to tie one on.

  The night burns away into vapor, and patrons file out of the bar at a rapid pace as the clock ticks closer to sunrise. Closing time is upon us, and the thought of going home is crushing. Smitty eyes me expectantly, waiting for me to leave, but he’ll have to say the word. Even a washed-up bar owner is better company than no one at all.

  “Cain?” I turn around slowly in an effort to stay upright on my barstool, and I see long black hair, big red lips, and plunging cleavage. I’m so damn drunk I can’t make out mu
ch else. “I thought that was you. I looked through the window of the bar while passing by and … well, anyway, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  She leans in, hugging me and placing a lipstick-laden kiss on my cheek. I pull her back to get a better look, and nostalgia punches me in the face.

  “Kimberly, wow,” I mumble with a smile. I hold onto her shoulder for balance, and she helps me sit up straight with a laugh. “It’s been a long, long … long time.”

  “Yeah, it has. You look great,” she laughs and shakes her head. “Amazingly drunk, but great all the same.”

  I laugh at her compliment, feeling every bit of my amazing drunkenness. “And you … you’re just plain amazing.”

  Kimberly was always a beautiful girl. Her looks were never the problem. She wanted a lot more than a good time, and I wanted a companion to the many keggers I frequented. We weren’t exactly a match made in heaven.

  “Riiiight … please tell me you and that cloud of whiskey vapor surrounding you didn’t drive here tonight?”

  “Nope. I walked. My apartment is right up the street.” I point left, then think better of it, and point right. Shit, maybe it is to the left … who knows, but I’m sure I’ll stumble upon it at some point.

  “I see,” she giggles and snakes an arm around my waist. I hop down from the barstool and feel her urging me toward the exit. “Why don’t I walk you home? I can make sure you don’t end up in the river, and we can catch up … talk about old times.”

  I stop moving forward to think on Kimberly and old times. My brain can’t seem to walk and think simultaneously, and the room tilts on its axis when I look up and weigh my options. Her long fingernails dig tightly into my bicep, and I focus my attention back on those plump red lips.

  I think back on our college ‘relationship’ through whiskey-tinted goggles, and realization washes over me. Was Kimberly a little pushy? Sure. Did she doodle Kimberly Bennett on any blank surface she could find, and plan out our wedding in painstaking detail? Most probably. But did she ever, even once, make me feel unwanted or unloved?