Delayed

by Nathan Kingsly

  “Right, Daniel, don’t have any privacy. When I offered mom a place here, she said she wouldn’t intrude. So, what do you suggest?”

  “To not make any decisions without me.”

  “Next time I take a shit, you want a text for which bathroom I should use?”

  “Don't be crude.” Her nose wrinkles.

  “Yeah, dude, don’t be gross.”

  Mia whirls around. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Brian…”

  “Never heard of ya!”

  Brian raises an eyebrow. “Used to be your brother's neighbor...I brought his stuff from California.”

  She turns back to look at me. “So that’s where you were hidden away? Had to cross the entire US, huh?

  “Harsh, they didn’t even know where you lived?”

  They both look shocked, like my arms stretched as Mister Fantastic in Fantastic Four and slapped them across the face.

  ”I’m here now.”

  “Too little too late, if you ask me.” Brian cocks an eyebrow.

  “Ooh.” Mia looks over her shoulder, and Brian smiles at her. “I like you.” Mia faces me again and throws her thumb over her shoulder. “He can stay.”

  I open my mouth, but Brian replies. “Actually, he can’t. I gotta get going.”

  Brian walks up to Mia, grasps her hand, and kisses it. Mia blushes, actually blushes. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And, uh, you.”

  Pushing away from the frame, I meet him in a handshake. His hand as calloused as mine and grips like a vise.

  “Keep in touch,” I say.

  He nods. “Oh yeah, I won’t be far, a text away after all.”

  The moment Brian is out the door, Mia can’t help herself. “Why can’t you be charming like him?”

  “Are you here for something other than insulting me?”

  Tilting her head, she purses her lips together, starts to shake her head, then stops mid-shake. “Oh yeah! Don’t make decisions about mom without me?”

  “Oh, like the decision you made about the letters and other things I’m sure I don’t know about?”

  “That was different.”

  I sigh, “Forget about me trying to move mom. If you want that job, then do it; just don’t come here acting like you want a solution.”

  “As if I would come to you for any problem-solving. You can’t even fix your own.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, my shoulders tensing as I look down at her, “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve been here, what two months? Mom told me about the letter. Bet you haven’t even started looking for her yet. I’m tired of watching you mope around. Even that girl that spent four days with you knew to get out while she could. You’re so self-absorbed.” She rolls her eyes.

  My hands drop and ball into fists. “Fuck you, Mia. Get out.”

  “What …?”

  “Get the fuck out.” My right arm flings toward the doors, and she flinches back.

  She recovers quickly and straightens. We stare down each other's resolve as we wait for the other to cave. “You really fell for a slut you met in a hotel, didn’t you?”

  I’ve never wanted to hit a girl more in my life. “Don’t call her that,” I growl.

  She lifts a brow. “What do I call her then?”

  “Her name is Emma.”

  “Fine, you really fell for Emma ...” she says her name with disdain. “You were only with her for a few days.”

  “And…”

  “There’s no way. Prove it.”

  “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

  “I thought you said that’s what you’ve been trying to do. Proving your worth?”

  “Not this. Emma is none of your damn business and has nothing to do with what’s going on between us.”

  “Then, what are you doing this for?”

  “What? Haven’t I explained a hundred times already?”

  “Oh shut it, Liam, you’ve proven yourself to us. I didn’t think you would do it, move here, but …” She gestures around the house. “You couldn’t have made a bigger statement.”

  I can’t imagine my expression; to be perfectly honest, I can’t feel my face or anything else from this shocking statement. Is she … forgiving me?

  She stabs a finger between us. “That doesn’t mean you can slack off. I haven’t forgiven you yet, but …” She looks down at the floor and sighs, letting her hand drop to her side. “I can’t deny I’m no longer concerned about your reliability.”

  I knew it wouldn't be easy to gain back her trust, and that admission from her wasn’t easily given either. Progress, I will take it.

  Turning, I wave for her to follow me. She takes a seat at my kitchen two-seater table.

  “You hungry?” I call over my shoulder.

  “I can eat.”

  “Grilled cheese?”

  “Like you used to make it?”

  “Not sure I know how to make it any other way. So, take it, or you’ll starve.”

  Checking over my shoulder, I catch her soft smile. “I’ll take it.”

  My mouth curves into an involuntary smile as I reach into the fridge, grabbing the things I need. It’s quiet as I heat the butter in the pan.

  When I start talking about Emma, the time we spent together replays in my mind, and I realize those four days, I lived. Mia’s words ring true; I was back to where I was before I met Emma. Since coming home, I’ve become more paranoid, not only needing to inspect my own place but before I settle into sleep, I check Mia’s house too. I insisted on having access to her surveillance system, and I’m losing sleep thinking of when Ger might strike. I’m back to living from one moment to the next, never looking beyond that. What does a few college classes mean, a new job for that matter, if I’m trading one routine for another? Sure, I’ve got my family again, but what’s going to give my life meaning once I no longer need to work so hard for us to feel like family again? Where will that leave me?

  I think again that it might have been a dream. How is it possible to feel this consumed by one person? I wasn't a virgin. I knew what I was looking for when I walked into that hotel room, but I came out of the experience with something I cannot put into words.

  It feels wrong to call it an obsession. Yet, that might be the closest word, because she continually preoccupies and intrudes my mind.

  I can still feel her fingers trace against my skin. How she smiles and how they create lines at the edges of those ocean eyes. Remembering her laugh brings a smile to my mouth.

  How could I forget the echoes of her moans that haunt my eardrums? Or how, when I grip my cock, my balls only tighten with release if I remember how it felt being inside her?

  Maybe what I've got doesn't have a word in the dictionary yet, or cure from the doctors. All I'm sure of is I can’t go another day without knowing I'm not the only one feeling it.

  “So why are you hanging around here?”

  I dip one of my cheese sandwich strips into the tomato soup and shake my head at her. “I’ve needed to stay here for the two of you.” I bite half of it and dip the other in again before popping the rest in my mouth.

  She’s playing with her food. Swirling a strip over and over in her soup, looking at it but not seeing it, is my guess.

  “I think I need to read this letter,” she says.

  “Not a chance.”

  She drops the stick, leaving it in the soup, and leans back in her chair with her arms across her chest. “Why not?”

  “She doesn’t say anything in there that I haven’t overanalyzed to death. There’s nothing you can glean from it that I haven’t.”

  “Then what could it hurt?”

  The evil twin has a point.

  “It’s been over a month,” I growl and push the laptop into the cushions of my couch before I stand. “I don’t know where else to search for her.” She dropped clues, thinking that it’s enough, but maybe, in the end, it’s throwing me even further off track.

  “Liam?”


  Mia and I both look towards the front door, though we can’t see it from here.

  “Yeah?” I call while heading in her direction.

  “Have you seen your sister?”

  “I’m in the living room,” Mia calls.

  Mom pitches her voice so only I can hear. “Oh, good to hear she’s still alive. Any closer?”

  I run a frustrated hand through my hair, gripping the ends, “What if I can’t find her?”

  Mia snorts as we walk into the living room, where my couch, coffee table, and television on the wall greet us. Still haven’t gotten around to filling out the place.

  “It’s probably for the best,” Mia says.

  Mom scolds her as she sits on the other cushion.

  “No, she’s right, maybe it’s not meant to be." I walk the length of the room. "Who knows, she could have left that note to let me down easy. She may not have meant any of it.”

  “Where have you looked?” Mom asks.

  Mia taps on the laptop I’ve bought since moving in here. “There were too many options to search through on Facebook, but we did set up a page for him if she thinks to look.” Mia rolls her eyes, telling the rest of us the likelihood of that. “I never knew how many party planners there were until now, and since we don’t know which state she’s from, it’s a broad search. That’s it; he can’t think of anything else that’s useful.”

  “We didn’t talk about those things.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t talk about those things?” Mia makes a face and does air quotes with her fingers for the word things. “How do you have feelings for someone you don’t even know?”

  “You can know someone without knowing all the details of their lives.”

  “Not those details. Those are the basic ones that even acquaintances know.”

  Maybe, she’s right, but I’m not willing to give up yet. “Who put you in charge of how this works? Last I checked, there are no rules dictating how you develop feelings for someone.”

  “Enough, both of you,” Mom says, exacerbated.

  My sister opens her mouth, but one look from my mother makes her think better of it.

  “Think of what you know about her. Does she seem like the type to not give you what you need to find her?”

  “No, but she didn’t seem the type to walk out on me either.”

  “Can you blame her?” Mia questions.

  “Mia!” My mother scolds. “That’s it. If you’ve got nothing helpful to add, then go find something else to do. You’d think you'd grow up and act your age.”

  “Acting isn’t in my skill set, but I’ll go. I still need to pack a few things before my trip. Don’t forget ...” She stands looking at me. “Pick Daniel and me up at 7:15 tomorrow morning.”

  "Believe me, even if I wanted to forget, I couldn't with how many times you've reminded me."

  "I'll call you at six." A smile grows on her mouth that speaks of evil intentions.

  "Don't, or I'll make you pay."

  Her smile stays in place as she waves while walking out of sight. "Better get to bed early."

  "Swear to God, Mia!" I'm not sure she hears me over the slamming of the door, but even if she did, it wouldn't make any difference.

  Mom and I spent several hours combing over what Mia and I already searched through. Then, we looked for anyone with a last name starting with a B in the wedding announcements of every available online newspaper. There were no mentions of a sister named Emma. It’s no use.

  It’s been dead end after dead end, and I’ve given up. With so little to go on, it seems clear that she never intended on being found.

  Though that night, while lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and if I’m missing something obvious.

  My head turns to the window at the sound of rain. I wish it would drown me in something other than my thoughts, but everything seems to remind me of what I’m missing. The light patter against the glass, and then lightning strikes. Much as it had done that night and bringing a flash of focus into the otherwise pitch room. I’d looked into her face, watched her features change as she came, watched as her face softened, and searched for something I wasn’t willing to give. Damn it. I now wish I’d taken my time, given in; maybe it would have changed her decision. Maybe, If I’d given more, more to hold onto, she would have stayed. Maybe I did this.

  I shake the thought away. No, I shared more with her than I shared with another, and it did nothing to change her mind. Whatever her reasons, she chose to leave, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

  Six am comes with a start. I must have fallen asleep; the ringing of my cell has me scrambling to make the noise stop. My legs tangle in the sheets, and I cuss ferociously. As soon as I hit the reject button on Mia’s call, I rip the sheets away and sit on the bed, waiting for my breath to return to normal. My elbows on my knees, I grip my head in both hands, pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets.

  Sighing, I leave the phone to ring as I head to the kitchen to make coffee. Before long, I have it in a cup and sit at the table, taking my first sip. Running my hands through my hair, my body aches from a nearly sleepless night, and the sleep I managed to get must have been restless. The remnants of a dream linger out of reach, grasping an edge a haunting chill has me reaching back.

  There’s no way that what I’m doing is healthy. The word is most definitely obsessed now. I can’t think of anything but her. When I’m at work, I do my best to concentrate on what’s in front of me, but it’s too like my last job that it wanders. When I get home, I force myself to do the classes, I take the quizzes, but there’s an obvious detachment.

  When I started to put my life back on track, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t about her. I want to be good enough for her, so when I find her, she’d have no answer other than yes. Now, there’s no way I can convince myself that there isn’t a screw loose somewhere. I’m fixing myself for a woman that left. I can’t keep holding onto a ghost.

  Taking one more gulp of my coffee, I push away from the table and head towards the bathroom. With every step, I’m convinced that I’m making the right decision.

  Showering, I go to the bedroom and dress in time for Mia to give me another call.

  “I’ll be there in ten,” I say into the receiver. I smirk as I hear her outrage before ending the call.

  I wave down the bartender and order my usual drink. Instead of drinking here, I should wait till I get home, but I need a place to let my mind wander. Mom is behind locked doors, the alarm system armed and linked to my phone. My sister is with her boyfriend on a plane to Minnesota of all places.

  “Thanks,” I tell the barkeep and hand him a ten. “Keep the change.”

  Moving from the bar, I sit at one of the tables skirting the edges of the airport foot traffic. So few people make their way to their destinations with soothed expressions and lazy strides. Though now that I notice those that do, I watch them.

  With all the chaos around them, they are not allowing others to dictate their mood or pace. I want to be them.

  A man, dressed in a hideous Hawaiian shirt stands next to his other half with a smile on his face. She screeches about how the stewardess banged that cart into her elbow on purpose. She is twisting herself into a contortionist to try and show him the damage. He grabs her arm, brings it to his lips, whispers something, and makes her smile as if the bruise no longer exists. The tenderness of the moment has me turning away.

  My eyes catch a woman looking up into the clear sky, watching a flight take off. She’s somewhere in her forties. She’s clutching the front of her magenta shirt above her breasts. I’d think she’s in trouble, but her reflection shows peace. Her posture relaxed, a small smile curving her lips.

  I don’t want to look away, but someone walks in front of me, cutting off my view. She’s younger, yoga pants, shirt hanging off one smooth shoulder, hair in a messy bun atop her head which changes color as the light from outside touches it from brown to red. My heart beats faster.
My hand clenches around my drink. Could it be? Her eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, touching her cheeks in a blink before focusing on her phone again, I need to see the familiar blue. I’m not prepared when she looks up. My breath hitches, stuck in my lungs. Those ocean blue irises sweep over me, and our eyes meet for the briefest second. My chest tightens as if her smaller hands, which I can still feel on my skin, are beneath squeezing my heart.

  She passes without losing a step. Now the air seizes for a different reason. Does she not recognize me? If she keeps going, this may be the last chance I get. My heart beats faster, and before I can think, I’m up on my feet.

  “Emma?”

  It’s in slow motion that she twists to look around her, and the details of her features change when her eyes meet mine. The busy welcome area of the biggest airport bleeds into the background when her features brighten into a smile. As soon as she takes her first step, I close the distance.

  We don’t touch, but there is so little distance between us, I can feel the warmth of her skin and can practically taste it on my tongue.

  We speak at the same time, and we laugh, releasing some of the tension coursing in the air between us.

  "Go first," I say.

  She smiles, and it tugs on my insides. "What are you doing here?"

  I gesture backward with my thumb, though they're long gone. "Dropped my sister and her boyfriend off."

  "Oh?" She looks around me. "They ..."

  "No, they've been gone. I needed a place to think, and I was already here." Shrugging, I soak up her features. Darting from one feature to another, memorizing them as if new.

  She shifts on her feet and looks down at them, and it's only then that I see the suitcase leash gripped in her hand.

  "Shit, am I keeping you?" Please say no. I'd give anything if you were to stay right here.

  She looks up and shakes her head no, but then as it slows, she nods. "Yes, I'm on my way to host a party. That's the job, after all. I should go …” She seems to be searching for something in my features, but I don’t know for what.

  “Alright.” I breathe out, and my gut tightens. I’ve wanted this for months, and now that it’s here, she’s leaving again.

  She shakes her head from her thoughts then nods. “Alright then, well, it was good to see you.” Her smile is too bright, and when it wobbles on her face, she twists and walks away.