Forfeiting Decency

by Rachel Schneider

  Justin watches Lilly reach the bottom of the stairs before turning his attention back to us. With his hands in his pockets, he tilts on the balls of his feet. “So…we’d be happy to give you a ride if you need one.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll just ride back,” I say.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “I wouldn’t want you to be distracted.”

  Well fuck.

  KIP’S BEEN SLEEPING FOR almost fifteen hours and I’m starting to wonder if he’s been drugged. He came over after working on the shop yesterday and passed out the second his head hit the couch cushions. It’s been three weeks since the paperwork has been finalized on the space, and Kip spends every waking minute working to fix it up. His main priority is getting the loft set up for him to move in since Lilly and Justin plan on making a move to the city in a few weeks. Lilly offered the townhouse to Kip, but he wants to be closer to the shop. An egotistical side of me likes to think it’s because he wants to be closer to me, too.

  He’s lying on his back, mouth hanging slightly open as soft snores fill the air. I’d turn him over like I did multiple times during the night, push him onto his side in an effort to alleviate the noise, but I’m actually starting to find them comforting. It reminds me that he’s here.

  I run a fingertip over the high curve of his shoulder, down his bicep, and onto his forearm. I hadn’t pegged him to be such a heavy sleeper, but he doesn’t even stir as I continue my exploration of his skin. It’s rough, marked with tiny indentions and scars, the kind that come with doing manual labor for a living—a few wire-thin lines across his forehead that are barely perceivable while he’s sleeping, but I know will show up the moment his eyes open. I’m tempted to wake him so I can watch the way his features come to life like they do when he smiles.

  Heavy knocking reverberates through the apartment and I jerk upright in bed. The only people who come to my apartment are Peter and Kip. Considering one of them is in my bed, the likelihood is that the other must be at my door.

  Panic.

  Nearly falling over, I shove my legs into sleep pants, catching myself on the corner of the nightstand as I struggle to pull a shirt on correctly. Double-checking that Kip’s still sleeping, I shut the bedroom door behind me and jog to the front door. I let out a breath of relief when I look through the peephole, because—Jesus Christ—that was almost really, really bad.

  “Hey,” I greet Lilly. “It’s barely breakfast.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I had an interview super early this morning, and since I was right around the corner, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by.”

  Hurt? No. Freak me the fuck out? Yes. “No, yeah. Come in.”

  She drops an oversized messenger bag on my counter. “You haven’t happened to talk to Kip lately, have you?”

  “Yesterday. Why?” Technically, I’m not lying.

  She shakes her head, shrugging the question off. “Just wondering. Do you have anything to eat? I didn’t have time to grab breakfast this morning.”

  I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “I don’t really have much of anything. The Broken Egg is a few blocks away if you want to go grab something together.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  A distinct sound resonates from my bedroom, and she gives me a quizzical look. “Is that…snoring?”

  I clamp my lips together and shake my head back and forth. She looks down the hall towards my bedroom and back to me, and I see the pieces fall into place as she comes to the right conclusion. She’s already halfway down the hallway before I can stop her. She hits the door with the palm of her hand, pushing the flimsy material open to revealing Kip lying on his back once again.

  His snores are possibly the cutest signs of exhaustion I’ve ever heard.

  Lilly stands there, taking in Kip’s naked torso peeking out from underneath the sheets and his pile of work clothes outside the bathroom door.

  Trying to keep my voice low, I whisper, “He asked me not to tell you.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge me as she bulldozes past me. I’m helpless to do anything but follow her, simply a spectator to her wrath as I watch her storm down the hallway and into the kitchen. Flinging the refrigerator open, she finds her target.

  “Lilly,” I say cautiously, trying to talk some reason into her. “At least you know where he’s been.”

  But I know I can’t stop what’s about to happen. Lilly is fiery and there’s no stopping her once she sets her mind to it. Poised over Kip, she squirts mustard straight into his open mouth. Both of my hands fly to my face as I watch Kip sit up, coughing through wet breaths, eyes wide with shock. He begins gagging once he registers the taste of mustard, leaping from the bed, naked as the day he was born as he runs into the bathroom.

  “Lilly!” He spits into the sink between words. “What. The. Actual. Fuck. Is wrong with you?”

  My eyes meet hers and I can see the tiny bit of fear mixed into her ire. She’s still pissed, but wise enough to be scared. Even she knows she might have pushed him too far. Kip emerges, holding a towel over his crotch as he wipes the last remnants of mustard from his mouth with his hand. If Lilly wasn’t in the room, and Kip wasn’t so distractingly angry, I’d find this way more appealing.

  “You and Justin may pull this shit with each other, pranks and fuck knows what else, but I am off limits.”

  I’m proud of Lilly as she holds her ground. “And my friend isn’t?”

  I mentally fist pump Lilly, beyond ecstatic she’s not wilting under her brother’s stare like she used to. For most of the time I’ve known Lilly, she’s always bowed to her brother’s command. But then I look at Kip, and I might actually be more scared for Lilly than she is. They stare at each other, both refusing to back down.

  “Okay,” I say, redirecting their focus. “How about we let Kip get dressed, and then we’ll convene in the living room after you both take a moment to calm down?”

  Neither one of them argues with my logic, and Lilly averts her eyes like she’s suddenly embarrassed by the situation. She shoots me a glare on her way out and I manage to hold in my smile until the door shuts behind her.

  “It’s not funny,” Kip says, sitting on the edge of the bed with towel still draped over his lap.

  I hold up my fingers in a pinch. “It’s a little funny.”

  He runs his hands over his face. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”

  I’m not expecting the punch-to-the-gut feeling that comes with his words. It’s not even like we had sex. He only came over to sleep. It’s weird. Right?

  I walk to the bathroom and begin cleaning up the remnants of mustard. The springs from the bed squeak as Kip stands, but I’m not expecting the feel of his arms as they wrap around my middle. “Your apartment is closer than Lilly’s. It made more sense to crash here.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror, steady when he says, “And I wanted to.”

  I sigh, giving him a small smile. “You have a serious snoring problem.”

  He knows I’m deflecting, but he doesn’t push. Releasing me from his hold, he places a soft kiss to my shoulder before leaving to get dressed.

  Kip and Lilly are on completely different wavelengths when it comes to communicating, so I know by letting them talk it out first it’ll be more beneficial for all of us. They’ve always been super close, relying on each other more than they probably should. Siblings are supposed to grow up, start different lives apart from each other, focus on their own paths. But Kip and Lilly’s lives are still incredibly interwoven, neither of them making a decision without careful consideration of the other. No doubt it’s because of their upbringing. It’s not unexpected considering they’ve only ever had each other—them against the world—but I thought the last four years Kip spent in prison would diminish it a little. Apparently not; the table just flipped.

  If being an only child taught me anything, it’s that I only have myself to rely on. It makes life tremendously easier the sooner people learn that.

  Turning the shower on, I check under th
e sink for a towel and cuss when I find it empty. I pad down the hall toward the laundry room, stopping when I hear the tail end of Lilly’s sentence.

  “…of herself.”

  Kip replies, “She’s capable of more than you think.”

  “She doesn’t have the ability to form real attachments, Kip. Look around you.”

  There’s silence while I assume Kip looks around.

  “Money, clothes, people,” she says, punctuating each word to drive her point home. “There’s not a single thing she couldn’t live without.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because...what? She’s too independent for you?”

  It’s a thinly veiled insult and Lilly knows it. She’s struggled with finding her own voice, learning to depend on herself, and Kip hit the nail on the head.

  “I’m not saying she’s a bad person. She’s not.” Her voice is strained, agitated because he’s not really listening to what she’s saying. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “That’s why I didn’t want you to know,” he says.

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do—”

  “No, you’re not.” He leaves no more room for argument.

  I make eye contact with Kip as I walk into his view toward the laundry room. The slight widening of his eyes reveals more than their conversation did. Lilly notices and follows his gaze. My tight-lipped smile is strained, but I grab a towel from the dryer and head back to the bathroom without addressing either of them.

  The bathroom is hazy and steam billows out from the shower when I pull back the curtain. It’s suffocating, but in a way that makes me feel like I can breathe. The humid air fills my lungs and it purges the ickiness in my chest. I stay in the shower for a while, letting the warm water soothe the coldness of Lilly’s words. The look on Kip’s face, as if I had caught him confessing something, replays in my mind. I hadn’t thought what they were discussing was that significant, but apparently it was to him.

  I find Kip reading something on his phone when I enter the kitchen. His head snaps up when he hears me open the fridge. I pour a glass of milk and sit opposite him, pulling his plate of toast towards me. He doesn’t stop me.

  “She’ll mind her own business from now on,” he says.

  I shrug. “Lilly knows me. She’s seen me at my lowest and lower,” I say, biting off a chunk of bread. “I don’t blame her for worrying.”

  His eyes divert over my shoulder, distracted by a news report playing on TV. “It was a one-dimensional conversation.”

  “Kip, it’s fine.” I smile to prove my point.

  He refocuses on me, eyebrows drawing together. “Why do you do that?”

  My chewing slows as I try to understand his question. “Do what?”

  “Pretend like nothing bothers you.”

  “Because it doesn’t. It’s not like what she said isn’t true.”

  “So you agree? You’re incapable of loving someone other than yourself? That’s what you’re saying?” He holds my stare, challenging me to lie, unbelieving of the truth.

  I missed more of the conversation than I thought. “Do you?”

  He doesn’t fall for my reverse tactic. “Don’t try to turn this into something it’s not. Do you believe you’re incapable of love?”

  “That’s a different question from the one you just asked me.”

  “How?”

  “Is the question whether or not I can love in general, or whether or not I can only love myself? Which one is it?”

  “Stop playing these games with me, Kaley. Do you think I don’t know you better than that?”

  “I’m simply asking for clarification.”

  “I want to hear what you think is the truth.”

  I give him an arbitrary list. “I love freshly painted toenails, fresh green tea, a bottle of sauvignon blanc.” Kip’s stare hardens and it encourages me to keep going. “You already know I love cupcakes—”

  Irritated, he slaps the counter. “I’m constantly letting you in, being honest with you whenever you ask me something personal. And yet, you can’t give me the same fucking consideration.”

  His anger drives something in me to repel. I want to push him further and I’m not sure why. “I love Lilly, and Lance, and even you, all in different ways.”

  He’s reaching the end of his patience. “Give me something real, Kaley,” he says, slow and precise.

  Fine. Forcing myself to curb the desire to see just how far I can push him, I tell him something I’ve never told anyone. “If I can love a man as vile as my father, then I should be able to love anyone.”

  The harshness of his stare slowly rescinds, and I watch his pupils jump back and forth across my face. I drop my gaze to the remaining bits of toast scattered across the plate in front of me, finding it easier than facing his scrutiny head on.

  When I can’t take it any longer, I look up. “Happy?”

  He begins shaking his head long before he speaks. “No.”

  PETER TEXTED ME THIS morning to let me know he’s back in town and looking forward to seeing me tonight. His message was like a reality slap to the face because I already agreed to spend the night with Kip earlier in the week. He was being super vague when he asked me to meet him at the shop, not letting me in on what he had planned.

  I spent the better half of the day analyzing my bank account while getting ready, unsure who I was actually getting ready for until about thirty minutes ago when I replied to Peter’s text to cancel. Not to mention attempting to sort through my feelings as to why I’m so eager to turn down a significant amount of money for Kip in the first place.

  I’m running extremely low on funds, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care when I have Kip to distract me. I even splurged on a new dress, not caring that the purchase slipped my bank account closer to zero than I’ve let it get in a long time. I admire the way it fits, running my hands down the material as I inspect it from different angles in the mirror. There’s no way Kip won’t love it. It’s easy to forget my problems when Kip feels bigger than all of them. He supersedes all of my worries and replaces them with his serious smiles.

  I’m slipping on my shoes when there’s a knock at my door. Confused, I check my text messages to make sure Kip didn’t mention picking me up. I had sent him a picture of my new dress and he replied with a suggestion to pair it with cowboy boots. My middle finger emoji earned me a kissy face in return, but there’s nothing about picking me up. Not that he would give me a heads-up before coming over, anyway. I’m way more used to him showing up unannounced than I ever thought I’d be.

  I should’ve known before I opened the door that the knocks didn’t land heavy enough to be Kip’s. “Peter.”

  He slowly takes in my appearance, face locked tight as his eyes scan from my head to my feet and back again. “You look real sick, Kaley.”

  He’s pissed. Shoving past me, he knocks the door into the wall, leaving a hole where the doorknob punctures the sheetrock. I’ve never been scared of Peter. Apprehensive? Yes. But never scared for my safety.

  He turns abruptly, backing me towards the door. “Want to clarify some things for me?”

  “Sure, Peter. What would you like to know?”

  He doesn’t miss the defensiveness in my voice. “You’re seeing someone else?”

  Hesitantly, I nod.

  “Is it serious?”

  I shake my head. I don’t know why it feels like I’m a liar. Maybe it’s because I’ve begun noticing how truly awful I am at it.

  Peter doesn’t believe me either, and his face shows his resignation. “I’ve heard the rumors,” he says. “I figured you were trying to fill the gaps in pay since I’ve been so busy lately.”

  “At first,” I agree. “But this is different. This isn’t about money.”

  He sneers. “When is it ever not about the money?”

  I can’t argue with his point. I say I’m sorry, because I don’t know what else to say.

  He folds his hands, holding his index fingers against
his mouth as he thinks. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  He acts like I have a choice. I nod, because he’s looking for an answer.

  He mimics the motion, stopping when he speaks. “What if I say no?”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline, unbelieving of what I’m hearing. “No, I can’t see him? You don’t own me.”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “What if I said you can’t break us.”

  “Peter, there isn’t an us. There hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “Everything I’ve done for you means…nothing,” he says, flippantly waving his hand in the air.

  “I am appreciative,” I say, meaning it. I don’t know where I would be without him. “But it doesn’t mean I’m indebted to you for the rest of my life. I get a decision to leave.”

  “So you can have sex with other men for money, but you can’t have sex with me, someone who actually gives a shit about you?”

  “I haven’t slept with anyone else in a while. I just…can’t anymore.” And I mean it in every sense of the way. Thinking about someone other than Kip touching me makes me ill in the truest sense of the word.

  For some reason Peter softens, reminding me of why I gave in to his pursuits in the first place. He kisses me, and even though it doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t exactly feel wrong either. It feels like goodbye, and I think we both need it a little bit.

  It’s not until his mouth leaves mine and reaches my neck that I feel like he’s pushing for more. “One last time,” he says.

  I shake my head. “Peter, I can’t.”

  He doesn’t listen as he lifts me onto the counter, pushing my legs apart, situating himself between them. “One last time,” he repeats, emptying his pockets. “I brought you something.” Keys, wallet, balled-up gas receipt…an envelope.

  My heart stops.

  I can’t take my eyes off the envelope, and Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of me as he removes his wedding band, setting it on the counter next to my thigh.