by J. Benson
Taylor and I grabbed our bags and started toward the front doors; to the pickup and drop off area. The area where my mother was supposed to meet us over an hour before.
Chapter 44:
Home Sweet Home
"I can't believe it," I fumed. "What kind of a mother forgets to pick up her own daughter at the airport?" I demanded. I stuck my arm out and instantly a bright yellow taxi screeched to a halt directly in front of me. The driver jumped out of the car and opened the trunk to put our luggage inside.
"Maybe she's just busy. Maybe she got caught up at work, or stuck in traffic." Taylor suggested, trying to soothe me.
"Or passed out on a couch somewhere?" I retorted, sharply.
He let that remark slide, which was probably wise of him. Anything he could have said would have become an argument. I was angry and defensive and I didn't want to take it out on him. And I didn't want to argue with my only ally in the city.
He turned his attention to stare out the window, and I followed his example. The car fell silent.
Without making eye contact or even glancing in my direction, he reached out and closed the space between us by placing his hand lightly on my thigh just above the knee. He gave my leg a reassuring squeeze. I slid my hand into his, and he squeezed my hand tightly and reassuringly. It was exactly what I needed.
I went back to chewing my lip.
Despite the snow littered streets, we made it back to my mother's apartment building in record timing. Within forty-five minutes of leaving the airport, the cab screeched to a rough halt.
Taylor handed the driver a handful of twenty dollar bills before I could even reach my purse.
"Was that enough?" He whispered as we reached the back of the car. The driver popped the trunk but made no move to venture into the snow to help us with our bags.
"It was more than enough." I replied, shooting a glare at the driver. He wasn't very helpful; he didn't deserve much of a tip.
We hoisted our luggage from the trunk and I slammed the lid down. I slapped my hand against the back of the car and the driver sped off, splattering us both with wet slushy snow. Just what an already terrible day was missing—wet feet.
I sighed. "Come on."
As we walked up the few front steps, it immediately struck me how little this place felt like home now. I had lived here all my life, but because it was filled with so many terrible memories; I felt no emotional ties to the building. It was quite the opposite of a warm welcome. The building felt like an empty shell and I wanted to run in the opposite direction.
"Emma?" Taylor asked next to me. He was staring up at the tall, towering building in front of him. Our building was one of the nicest in the area. The tall building was decorated with cement-colored stucco, and dotted with glass and wrought iron balconies. The windows were large and square, bordered with dark iron casings. I hardly noticed how impressive and fancy looking the building must have seemed to someone who had never seen it before.
I was starting to feel like a spoiled rich kid, and that was the last thing I wanted. I may have been a spoiled rich kid at once point, but I wasn't anymore.
"Huh? What?" I asked, snapping out of my stupor. "I'm sorry what?"
"This is where you live? It's like a five star hotel!" He mused. "I've stayed in hotels that look like complete crap compared to this place!"
A nearby security guard who was trying to sneak in a cigarette nearby chuckled dryly. When I shot him a glare, he immediately looked away and inconspicuously tried to put out his cigarette.
I sighed. "This building is full of a lot of spoiled rich kids and hoity-toity old ladies with big pocket books."
We walked into the lobby which was unbelievably warm. The concierge smiled and greeted me, and I wondered if he recognized me or if he'd forgotten who I was since I no-longer passed through this lobby on a daily basis.
I watched as Taylor looked around, taking in the posh groupings of sofas the signs for the gym, the spa, and the pool. His mouth was open slightly in disbelief. "You live here?" He asked.
"I used to." I admitted. "I guess you get used to it..."
"Yikes." He breathed.
I followed his gaze to the sign for the pool and terror welled up in my throat.
"Wow, your grandma was right..." He muttered.
"About what?" I asked curiously.
"She told me to bring a bathing suit. She said there was a pool. I thought she was kidding, because who lives with a house that you can swim in during winter?" He chuckled dryly.
I swallowed hard. "Did you? I mean... did you bring a bathing suit?"
"I wasn't going to." He smirked. "I'm glad I did. Can we go for a swim?"
"Okay..." I felt like hyperventilating. "Come on, let’s get the elevator and get upstairs." I deliberately side-stepped the conversation, hoping he would soon forget.
"The elevator? There are no stairs?"
"There are... but we're going up twelve floors. By the time we get up there it will kill us." I smiled. "The elevator is much easier."
"Okay." He smirked. "Lead on."
I led the way to the elevator and pressed the button. It dinged loudly, and the doors slid open soundlessly.
Taylor held the door for me unnecessarily, I smiled and stepped inside. Taylor sighed; the only sound in the elevator.
I moved closer to him and slipped my arms around his slender body, resting my cheek on his cold parka. He pressed his cheek to the top of my head in a soothing embrace.
"Can I tell you something?" He murmured against my hair.
"You can tell me anything." I breathed.
"This is going to sound childish and selfish, but I was dreading you coming back here." He murmured, laying a soft kiss against my hair.
I furrowed my brow in confusion and released him just enough to look up at him.
"I didn't want you to come back here. I thought that if you came back here, you would realize how much how much you miss this place, and I would lose you... I was afraid you might decide that living in Tulsa wasn't as good as living here, and I would lose you forever. I know it’s selfish, but it's been gnawing at me since the plane landed." He admitted.
I felt myself melt. He was being adorably sweet. "Tay, nothing could make me want to come back here. This place doesn't feel like home to me at all. Home is in Tulsa with you and grandma. I couldn't even begin to imagine coming back here." I shuddered lightly at the thought.
"But you miss your mother." He observed.
"Maybe so... but things between us haven't changed. She's still drinking her problems away, and I've lost one parent. I won't be around to watch the other kill herself."
He nodded sympathetically. The elevator made another noise and ground smoothly to a stop at our floor. I was glad to be free of the conversation.
"Come on," I forced a smile and took his free hand, pulling him behind me down the hall. Taylor glanced around like a child in a candy store who was overwhelmed by his surroundings.
"Definitely more like a five star hotel than an apartment building." I heard him murmur, behind me.
We stopped outside the door marked twenty-fourteen in fancy cursive copper, and I tried turning the door knob. The door was locked. I had left my key on the kitchen counter when I left home the last time. I thought I would never be coming back here again, and I was sure I would never need the key.
"What's wrong? You don't have a key?" Taylor asked worriedly. "Could we run back downstairs and get a key from the Superintendent?"
I dropped my purse in the hallway and stood on my toes, reaching above the door jam, feeling for anything different. My fingers closed over a cold piece of metal. Triumphantly, I pulled the key down and slipped it into the lock.
"Is that wise?" He questioned.
"Probably not. I'm surprised she hasn't been broken into yet." I sighed. "Though it does mean she's been drinking enough lately that she wants to have a backup key in case she locks herself out." I informed him.
I let Taylor into the apa
rtment first, following him in and closing the door behind him. I turned off the alarm system and locked the door behind us, simply out of habit. I was surprised at how quickly habit returned. I kicked off my boots and he did the same with his running shoes.
"Mom? Mom?" I called, but I already knew the apartment was empty. The phone on the desk in the front hallway was flashing and showing one new message. There was no doubt that it was the message I had left from the airport.
"Come on, I'll show you around." I took his hand in both of mine and pulled him down the long hall. The kitchen, dining room and living room were all joined into one vast room. Nothing had changed since I had last been here. I showed him the kitchen, which was adjacent to a large dining alcove, and an even bigger living and family room. A large stone fireplace rose up along one wall, housing my father's prized television above it. I showed him my mother's room, which was on the first floor along with the small area where she kept her books and her office. I led Taylor to the grand, curved staircase.
Taylor was completely baffled about the notion of an apartment with a staircase, but I explained that my parents owned the living quarters, and the building was more or less a condominium than a regular apartment.
Once upstairs, I began to lead Taylor toward the spare room where he would be sleeping. But to get there, we had to pass through the loft area that my dad used as his study. It was always my dad's space, and though it was still filled with books, the massive desk had been replaced by a love seat and two chaise lounge chairs. He used to sit and read by the hour in his favorite arm chair—a chair I could barely look at it without crying.
"Wow..." He breathed, leaning on the railing in the loft. He was overlooking the floor below, which was most of the house. His eyes turned to the huge wall of windows which took up an entire wall in the living and dining room. "What an amazing view. You can see half the city."
I smiled lightly, moving to stand next to him. "It used to be one of my favorite views at night. The lights make everything sparkle. It's probably as close to seeing the stars as you ever get in New York." I smiled dreamily.
"It must cost a fortune to live here..." He muttered under his breath. I pretended that I hadn't heard the statement. I honestly wondered how my mother managed to keep the place; and I knew my father had paid for the apartment ages ago. I was waiting for the day that she would put the apartment up as collateral for a drink.
On opposing walls were two doors. One had a bright purple 'E' on the front and the other door was wide open.
"Come on, I'll show you to your room." I smiled at him. I left my bag in the living area and led Taylor into the guest bedroom. Little had changed in that room either. The walls were painted a cheery shade of sky blue and the linens were still stark white. The furniture was all in dark mahogany and the four posts of the bed still reached up toward the monstrously high ceiling.
"Is this okay?" I asked nervously. I tucked my hair behind my ear, anxiously. "You'll have your own bathroom and shower and everything, so you'll have tons of privacy..."
"This is perfect." He smiled, leaving his suitcase in the middle of the room and dropped his backpack onto a small antique armchair in the corner of the room. "This is nicer than any hotel I've ever stayed in. This is nicer than the ones at Disney land."
I laughed. "I doubt it. We do have a maid service here, but no one will leave a mint on your pillow."
"Makes no difference to me, my brothers used to always steal my mints anyway." He shrugged, grinning.
"Do you want to see my room?" I blurted out before I realized how awkward the question sounded.
"Yeah." He responded a little too quickly.
"Okay." I chewed my lip anxiously, but turned away so he couldn't see it.
I reached for my suitcase, but his hand beat me to it. "I'll get it."
"Thank you." I said softly, resisting the urge to argue that I was capable of doing it myself.
I opened my bedroom door and he followed me inside. I watched as Taylor glanced around eagerly at my pale mauve walls, my dainty white furniture and two entire walls overflowing with books. Above my desk there was a cork board overloaded with pictures, letters, papers and various other things.
Taylor grinned. "See? Now this room has plenty of personality." He plopped down on the foot of my bed. Just like my room at Grandma's house, he was making himself comfortable. And I didn't mind.
"Thanks... I picked everything out myself." I laughed at my own joke.
He was busy looking around the room curiously. I knew he was analyzing the room--and analyzing me. I acted quickly and impulsively.
I crossed the room quickly and climbed on his lap, planting my knees on either side of his legs to straddle his thighs. My hips collided with his chest roughly. I pressed my lips against his roughly, pushing him back against my bed.
He fell backward, completely not expecting my actions. His mouth fell open in shock and I took full advantage of this to kiss his mouth openly and deeply, moving carefully against him. He moaned softly against my lips, his arms moving around me at last. His fingertips brushed the exposed skin on my lower back. I flinched closer to him, not expecting the contact, but never breaking my kisses.
Taylor rolled me onto my back, my leg hitching around his hip. My breath caught in my throat; all the places our bodies connected made shivers run rampant down my spine. This was the closest and most intimate we had ever been. My hands were buried in his hair, but his hands never left my hips.
He slowly broke the kiss, leaving me desperate for more. "Emma..." He breathed, his breathing ragged against mine. His eyes were slightly glazed over. "Your mom could be home at any minute..." He whispered.
"I doubt it. I doubt she'll be home until four or five this morning." I replied. "Kiss me again."
He untangled himself from my leg and pushed himself up on his hands. "We should go for that swim... it will cool us both off." He grinned slyly.
Chapter 45:
Irrational Fears
The only bathing suit I could find was at least two years old, but I hadn't actually ever worn it. My parents had planned a family vacation in Hawaii, one which we had never actually gone on. My parents had booked the trip when my father had been deemed in remission, but as the trip neared, he took sick again. I wasn't much of a swimmer anyway.
In fact, I was slightly suspicious as to why Taylor was so adamant about going down to the pool and why he insisted I change into a swim suit; even though I was determined not to swim. I wondered just how much my grandmother had mentioned the pool in the building. No matter what, I was not going to swim.
I sighed and with my hands on my hips, I studied my reflection in the full length mirror in my private bathroom. The suit was a little too small, and I wasn't happy with the way the suit clung to my butt.
I knew that I had lost a bit of weight since moving in with my grandmother--something to do with the fact that there wasn't a decent Chinese take-out place for miles--and it wasn't that I have ever been chubby before, I added mentally.
It was quite the opposite; I had always been naturally thin. I smiled privately to myself, remembering how much grandma tried to overfeed me, insisting that I could use a couple of extra pounds. It made me miss her.
I sighed. I was wasting time, and I knew it. And Taylor was insufferably impatient.
Still, I wasn't about to wander through the lobby in a two piece bathing suit with my butt practically hanging out. I picked up the wrap that I had borrowed from my mother and fashioned a dress out of it the way I had witnessed her do a million times.
I walked back through my bedroom and into the hall to find Taylor waiting. He was wearing swim trunks and the same t-shirt from earlier. The towels I had dug from the linen closet were slung over his shoulder lazily.
"Hey," He grinned. "You look nice... I mean, you always look nice..." He fumbled.
I felt myself blush.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Umm... should we take snacks or drinks with us?" I asked, s
talling desperately.
"We're only going for a quick swim..."
"Okay, you're right." I smiled. "Come on." I slipped my hand into his and led him down the stairs and out of the apartment.
The elevator seemed to go much too quickly after he pressed the button for the main floor. A part of me hoped the elevator would break down between floors. I could think of a million things that would be worse than being stuck in an elevator with Taylor for a couple of hours.
"Which way is the pool?" He asked leading me into the lobby.
"Umm... this way..." I replied, "Just down this hall."
We walked together down the hall. We had lived in this building for as long as I could remember, but this was honestly the first time I'd ever actually been to the pool.
"This building is fantastic. Is there anything it doesn't have?" Taylor asked.
"Umm... a hospital." I said quickly. "Though the guy in the apartment next to us is a plastic surgeon. And on the fifth floor, Dr. Margaret is a cardiologist and the penthouse is owned by an endocrinologist... and of course, my dad was a doctor too..."
"Oh." He smiled. "So that's good then, if one of us drowns..."
I swallowed hard.
"Ahh... pool..." He grinned broadly, seeing the sign. He pushed open the door and I followed him into a room which was overly stuffy and the chlorine smell was nearly intoxicating.
We were the only people in the pool room, and I was grateful for that. Taylor walked to the pool's edge, peering into the still water. He let out a low whistle. "Wow, what is this? An Olympic sized pool?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "I usually don't watch the Olympics."
Taylor laughed, as if I had consciously made a joke. If I had made a joke, it hadn't been on purpose.
I dropped into one of the deck chairs and unfolded my wrap, splaying it around me on the chair as if I were tanning, even though there wasn't nearly enough light coming through the windows to give me a tan. It seemed silly seeing as we were indoors and it was the dead of winter.