by J. S. Cooper
“What’s so special about me?” I joked, but my heart stood still as I waited for him.
“You just don’t even know.” His eyes seemed to darken and he was silent for a few seconds as he stared at me. “Oh, Mila, butterflies envy you.” He reached over and caressed my face.
“Why would butterflies envy me?” I laughed awkwardly. The air seemed to stand still in the room as I waited for his answer.
“The sight of you. The sound of your laugh. The lightest touch of your arm. The smell of your hair. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile. The way you play with your hair when you’re nervous. The way you listen to me. The way you make me feel when I’m with you. The whole world stands still when my eyes catch yours. The whole world stands still and even the butterflies are caught up in your aura.”
“Oh, TJ,” I said, about to say more, but he held a finger to my lips and smiled, a beautiful, handsome, heartwarming smile that made my heart ache. I reached over and pulled him closer to me.
“The sight of you ignites my heart, Mila. The sound of your laugh is music to my ears. Just knowing that I’m next to you, the way that makes me feel, it’s enough to let me know . . .” His voice trailed off again and he looked away from me then.
“Let you know what?” I asked breathlessly.
“I knew I was falling for you when the world stood still,” he said, as if he were talking to himself. He then looked back at me, a confused expression on his face. “When I saw you crying just now, it felt like the world was going to combust and burst into flames. It made me feel things. Think things.” He sighed.
“Is that a good thing?” I asked him softly, hope starting to bubble inside of me.
“I’m still trying to decide.” He looked confused.
“Do you love me?” I asked, my throat immediately freezing as soon as the words were out. How could I have asked him that? I wanted to die as soon as I’d said the words.
“I’m trying not to. I’m really trying not to.” He looked so bleak and I wasn’t sure, but I reached over to him to bring him even closer to me, to comfort him, even though it was my heart that was breaking. All I could think inside was love me, love me, love me, please, love me.
“Don’t fall for me, Mila. Please don’t fall for me,” he said as he kissed my neck and held me close.
I already have. I closed my eyes and held him close, praying that more tears wouldn’t start to fall.
Chapter Seven
TJ
Twenty Years Ago
The whole room was dark as I crawled out of bed. I was thirsty and hungry and I rubbed my eyes as I made my way to my bedroom door. I saw my toy soldiers on the floor next to my bed and picked up two of them to take with me to the kitchen. I walked quietly to the door, as I knew my dad would be upset if he knew I was out of bed. I’d get in trouble and grounded and I wouldn’t be able to play video games, and that would suck.
My hand froze on the doorknob as I turned it and it squeaked. I paused and held my soldiers tightly as I peeked into the corridor. There was no noise and no doors were opening. I was safe.
I crept out of the room and walked softly, avoiding all the loose floorboards that I knew made noise. I made it to the top of the stairs when all of a sudden I heard a noise. I froze, my eyes widening, and I looked behind me to make sure my dad wasn’t coming out. No doors opened, but once again I heard the noise. I tilted my head to the side and listened again. It sounded like a sob. As if someone were crying.
I felt my lower lip wobbling and I wasn’t sure why. I started to head back to my bedroom but then stopped and walked towards the bedroom my mom slept in. My friends thought it was weird that my mom and dad slept in different rooms, but it was all I’d ever known.
I made my way to her bedroom and opened the door slowly. I stared into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and then I saw her, curled up on the bed, her face in her hands and she was sobbing, her hair a mess on her pillow. I stood there, watching her, my heart thudding, my stomach feeling empty and my face turning red with heat. Her sobs seemed to get louder and louder as I stood there and I felt both of my toy soldiers falling to the floor. I bit down on my lower lip, scared that my mom heard the noise, but she didn’t. If anything, her sobs got even louder. As her tears cascaded down her face I watched as her fists hit her pillow as if she were punching it. I didn’t really understand what was going on.
“Mommy?” I said softly, not sure what to do. I wanted to go over and hug her. I wanted to go over and ask her if everything was OK. I wanted her to hold me in her arms and kiss the top of my head like she did every morning before I went to school.
But my feet wouldn’t move. I leaned back into the doorway and started to suck my thumb. My dad would be pissed if he saw me sucking my thumb. He told me boys didn’t suck their thumb. I tried not to, but there were some times when I just couldn’t stop myself. This was one of those times. I wanted to be a big boy, I really did. I was eight, I should be able to stop, but sometimes I just couldn’t.
“Mom,” I said again, softly, wishing she would look up and see me, and stop crying, but she didn’t hear me or see me. Instead she just kept crying and crying.
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” she cried out into her pillow and I started sucking on my thumb harder.
“Mom,” I whispered, feeling scared, my whole body feeling cold with uncertainty.
“I just want to die,” she cried out and I so badly wanted to go over to her and kiss her. I so badly wanted to go over to tell her I loved her. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I stood there for about ten more minutes and then quietly picked up my toy soldiers, closed the door and made my way to my room and crawled back into my bed, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep until sleep finally took me.
When I woke up the next morning, my father told me that my mother had gone to Heaven earlier that morning. All I did was stare at him as my heart closed in and my stomach tightened. He didn’t reach out to hug me or ask me if I was okay and I didn’t reach out to him. Instead I just walked back to my room, got back into my bed, curled into a ball and sucked my thumb.
Present Day
Every morning, I would wake up and just lie there without opening my eyes. It used to be that I wanted to avoid the beginning of the new day for as long as possible. I’d lie there and imagine that I was somewhere else, anywhere else. Sometimes I’d picture I was on a deserted island somewhere, the sun on my face, the salty air caressing my cheeks as I tried to figure out how to climb the closest coconut tree and pick as many coconuts as I could. Other times, I would picture myself at Mila’s house with her family, playing board games or just sitting around the dinner table talking about our days.
I’d always found it funny that they’d always seemed so interested in hearing about my life, as if I were important or mattered to them. No one else had ever seemed to care. Certainly not my father. He cared about: my grades, my sportsmanship and what girls I dated. There was nothing else in my life that was important to him. I’d learned at an early age not to bother going to him when I was happy, excited or sad. He didn’t listen and he didn’t care. And I learned not to care. Not about anything. It wasn’t important. I wasn’t important. Though for some reason I was important to Mila and Cody, and their parents, and even Nonno looked at me like I mattered. It was a strange feeling, nice, but uncomfortable.
When I woke up in the mornings now, I still kept my eyes closed, but it wasn’t to think about other places I could be, it was to let my mind think about Mila completely unadulterated. I would picture her smile, the bright happy look in her eyes, the way she plays with her hair when she’s nervous. I would think about the way she smells, like roses on a dewy day, fresh, crisp, clean, fragrant. I would imagine her touching my arm or chest, imagine her holding me close, pressing her head against my chest and holding me tightly. I would see myself pulling her into my arms and kissing her forehead and then we would just be there, bound together by some emotion I d
idn’t want to acknowledge. And then as my anxiety crept in, and the doubts started to come, I would find my eyes opening slowly, ready to face the day, to forget the fantasy that I didn’t think I really wanted. And then I would focus on the task at hand and on why there will never be a moment like that in my daydreams again.
This morning, I awoke, but I didn’t just lie there. I didn’t focus on anything. My eyes flew open and I looked over to the right to look at Mila, to see that she was okay. It was weird having her share my bed now. It was weird that sometimes I woke up and thought of her and kissed her and caressed her in my mind, yet in person—in real life—I just lay there, not able to express the feelings within, in person.
“Morning,” I said softly when I saw her eyelashes fluttering as I faced her. I knew she was awake and was just trying to pretend she was sleeping. She didn’t answer me and I smiled to myself as I felt a surge of happiness trailing through my body for no real reason. It always surprised me how happy I felt just being in her company. Unfortunately, I also felt surges of anger and jealousy when around her. If she looked at another guy and smiled in her sweet, friendly way, it enraged me. Didn’t she realize that other men might read something into her smile? What annoyed me even more was wondering if she was interested in them as well? What really did she see in me? What did she want from me? Would she be happy to be with another man?
I knew these thoughts were irrational, but they always came and I absolutely hated them. I hated feeling like she was taking over my brain; making me think and feel things I didn’t want to feel. She opened up doubts, pains, hurts I didn’t want to think about. The happiness was a high, but the flipside of that, well, the flipside was dark.
“I said, good morning, Mila,” I said again and reached over to tickler her under the arm.
“No, you didn’t.” Her eyes popped open as her body reacted and she pushed my hand away. “You said ‘morning,’ not good morning.” She smiled at me sweetly as she yawned gently. I watched as she pushed her hair away from her face and wondered at how beautiful she was. How could her brown eyes do so much to me when she looked at me?
“So you were awake?” I grinned at her and leaned forward to give her a quick and soft kiss on the lips. Her eyes widened slightly and she just lay there and stared back at me as I moved back.
“I never said that.” She bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “My subconscious must have heard.”
“Uh huh.” I nodded, rolling my eyes. “That must be it.”
“Yeah, it is.” She laughed and then reached over and touched my hair gingerly, running her fingers through my unkempt, short, dark locks before leaving my hair and touching my face. Her fingers ran along my jawline, touching my stubble, touching me lightly as they made their way to my chin. Her fingers were dainty, light as she touched me, and I felt my body freezing uncomfortably. Her touch was like magic, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way she looked at me adoringly as she caressed my face. It made me feel . . . well, I can’t describe the emotion. It turned my stomach into knots and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt out of control.
“So are you feeling better this morning?” I asked her, pulling back and looking away from her. Sometimes gazing into her eyes was too unnerving for my equilibrium.
“Yeah, I suppose.” Her voice was uncertain and I gazed at her again. This time it was her eyes that fell to the side uncertainly as she fiddled with her fingers. An awkward silence befell us and I stretched out in the bed and closed my eyes. I could feel Mila curling up and hugging herself next to me. I wanted to reach over and hold her tight. I wanted to tell her that we didn’t have to be uncomfortable with each other. I wanted to hold her close and tell her to let her worries go. But I couldn’t. Instead I pulled the sheet off of my body and turned to her with a wicked grin.
“Pleasure me, woman.”
“What?” She gave me a funny look, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at my boxer shorts and then back to my eyes.
“I said, pleasure me, woman.” I grinned at her as I joked, trying to break the awkward tension in the air. I wasn’t really sure where it had emanated from, but I didn’t like it. I was a lot more comfortable when the focus was on sex.
“Yeah, okay.” Mila shook her head. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t want to give you a minute.” I grabbed her hands and pulled her towards me. “I want to feel those lips on my cock right now.”
“You’re so crude.” She looked at me, annoyed, and my stomach flipped. “I’m not some toy or plaything, just here to pleasure you when you want.”
“You’re not?” I growled, my brain starting to feel panicked as I kept on joking.
“Touch me, woman.”
“TJ.” She shook her head, disappointment in her eyes, sadness in the tilt of her lips.
“Fine, don’t,” I said, laughing awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.
“Is this all I am to you?” she said softly, long drawn-out sighs leaving her mouth as her body moved away from me.
“No,” I said abruptly, almost harshly. I sounded angry and that made me mad at myself. Why did I sound angry? And why was my stomach churning and my forehead heating up? I wanted to jump out of the bed. I wanted to go have a shower and a long run. I needed distance from her.
“All you want is sex.” She looked disgusted and I wasn’t sure if it was with me or herself.
“That’s not all that I want.”
“You don’t want love and marriage, though, do you?” I could hear the hope in her voice. How could I tell her that in some sort of alternate reality, I wanted just that? In my deepest dreams I wanted that—the white-picket fence, the wife, three kids, a loud yappy dog and moody cat. But that was just a fantasy, not real life. My real life wouldn’t go anything like that.
“You want a family and kids?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“Yes,” she said lightly. “Two boys, a girl. A Labrador Retriever.”
“You’ll have it,” I said, though it killed me to say that. I didn’t want to think of her with another man, married, giving birth to his kids. In fact it infuriated me. It made me want to kill the other man, even though he didn’t really exist.
“I guess not in the next four weeks,” she tried to joke, her words shaky.
“Yeah, not in the next four weeks.” I smiled back at her, trying to forget that this arrangement was temporary. She wouldn’t be here with me every morning. I didn’t have to worry that she’d take over my life. She’d only be here for a few more weeks and then everything would be back to normal.
“So what exactly do you feel for me, TJ?” she asked again, and I froze. I didn’t want to get into this conversation with her. After I’d seen her crying, I had wanted to punch something or someone. A part of me had been scared. I’d never seen her like that before. It had opened up something in me and I had let her into a part of my soul that had been closed off before.
“I don’t know how to answer that question, Mila.” I sighed, “I really don’t.”
“Do you love me?” she asked me again hopefully, and my heart lurched at her question. I didn’t know why she kept torturing the both of us.
“I love you like family,” I lied. I wasn’t sure exactly what I felt for her, but I knew I didn’t love her like a sister or anything like that.
“Like family?” I could see the hurt in her eyes and it made my heart thud a little harder. I wanted to reach out and touch her face, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Some part of me, the part that was reserved, the part that was scared of emotions and feelings, didn’t know how to reach out. I didn’t know how to tell her the things I was feeling. I didn’t even understand the things I was feeling. How could I tell her that the hurt in her face was the same hurt I felt beating in my heart right then?
“So you think of me as your sister?” This time her voice was angry, betrayed, and I swallowed hard.
“Obviously not, Mila. I wouldn’t fuck my sister.” My words were harsh, harsher than
I’d intended, and I was annoyed at myself.
“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t fuck her, just everyone else,” Mila said bitterly and looked away from me. I could feel that I was losing her and I was scared. I took a deep breath and reached out a hand to her arm. She flinched and pulled it away from me and I felt like she’d just slapped me in the face.
“Mila, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. All those magical fairy-tale words that you deserve, but I’m no Prince Charming. I’ve never pretended to be.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m all sorts of messed up, and you know that.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly, looking away. “I don’t care. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m fine.”
I just lay there then, staring at her face as she avoided my eyes. I watched as her lips trembled and she started to play with her hair. I could tell that she was upset. She always fiddled with her hair when she was nervous or upset. I looked back up to her face and I could see that her eyelashes were moving quickly. My throat caught as I realized she was fighting tears. I’d done this to her. I felt overwhelmed and angry with myself. I didn’t want to make her cry. I wanted her to be happy. I needed her to be happy. I was already in too deep. I knew she would end up hating me. I know that the secrets I held would break her. I knew they would break her, but I couldn’t help that.
I closed my eyes for a second and started talking. The words came slowly, since my brain wasn’t functioning properly and I didn’t know what to say.
“I do like you, Mila,” I said into the silence, my eyes still closed. “I might even love you in some way. Some sort of love that grows from the heart like weeds in a garden.”
“What?” she said, her voice timid, and I opened my eyes to look at her.
“My love for you is like weeds growing in a garden,” I said, my voice bleak. “I don’t want to love you, I’m trying everything I can to not love you, but the feeling keeps growing and getting stronger, no matter what I try to do.”
“You don’t want to love me?” She looked confused, her eyes wide, gazing at me with such an innocent expression that I felt a dagger cutting into my heart as I stared back at her. I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself.