“And did they?”
“No.” She laughed. “My dad came home, and I swear his face was so red, I thought he was going to kill us. But he didn’t get mad at me.” She cringed. “He got mad at my brothers.”
“No,” Elliot said, appalled.
“Yes,” she said, opening her eyes for the first time since beginning the story. “You see, all the mud I tracked through the house led straight into their rooms. All the toys were theirs, and by the time he came home, I had already given up and taken a bath.”
Elliot shook his head in disbelief, “And you threw them under the bus, didn’t you?”
“No.” Her eyes widened. “I tried to confess, but my brothers wouldn’t let me. Every time I opened my mouth, they interrupted. I talked to them about it years later, and they said it was because if it wasn’t for me, they would’ve never had that epic mud fight in the backyard. That it was worth all the extra chores my Dad made them do to make up for it.” She lifted one shoulder. “I knew it was because they didn’t want me to get in trouble. They’ve always been protective of me. I guess it sorta makes up for all the guys they chased away in high school.”
Tattoo guy popped up his head and rolled back in his seat. “Done.”
They both looked down to Fe’s hipbone where the small red heart sat no larger than a dime.
“You did it,” Elliot said, with an overwhelming sense of pride. As though they’d had a child together…as though...
The corner of her mouth lifted for the first time, and she eased her fingers away from his, gingerly touching the tender flesh at her side. “Thank you.” She turned her face up to Elliot. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He shook his head, pushing away all the intimate things that had overcome him in that moment. “You had it the whole time.”
She bit her bottom lip, lowered her t-shirt back over her hip without zipping her jeans, and rose to her feet. She wobbled slightly at first, but tattoo guy handed her a bottle of apple juice and indicated she should sit back down.
He turned to Elliot “Ready, bro?”
Fe shook her head violently, swallowing a gulp of apple juice. “No Elliot, seriously.”
He hopped in the tattoo chair, and pulled off his t-shirt, ignoring her request. “A promise is a promise. You got yours. Now I’m gonna get mine.”
Her lips turned in a frown, and she leaned forward to grab his arm. “Elliot, I’ve wanted one for years. You—.”
“Who said I didn’t want one?”
“You did,” she said blinking.
“Well, I guess I was wrong.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he covered her lips with one finger. “Distract me, Fe. Tell me another story.”
She pulled in a breath, making him regret the simple touch, but then her cheeks softened, and a smile began to slowly transform her whole face. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted a tattoo until an hour ago. When Fe had stood in that barber shop and made him realize that if he didn’t do this with her, he would regret it his entire life.
Fe took hold of his hand then, and the tattoo artist placed the outline of the design onto Elliot shoulder. She took a deep breath, then another, looking as though his very existence gave her strength, and began telling a story.
And then another…
And another….
“One time.” She yawned two hours later. “Phillip’s friend—the youngest of my brothers—had a crush on me and asked me to the Homecoming dance. I was only a freshman, he a junior, and when Phillip found out, he walked across the football field and punched him right in the nose.”
“Ouch…” Elliot muttered.
“He actually broke it.”
“Double ouch.”
Fe yawned and looked over to the tattoo guy, who they now knew as Brian. “How much longer?”
Brian picked up the needle and peered up to the ceiling. “Hour. Hour and a half, at most.”
“Jesus, Elliot!” Her eyes widened as she turned back to Brian. “Are you serious?”
Not a man of many words, Brian only nodded.
Elliot grinned in response, then glanced over to his shoulder to check on the progress. They’d been there for hours, and quite frankly, it only looked halfway done. It was large, yes, but cupped his shoulder perfectly, and anything smaller would’ve been pointless. When Brian settled the needle once again to Elliot’s flesh, he scrunched up his face. The pain finally getting to him.
He turned back to Fe. The concern on her face more than he could take.
“Does it hurt?” she asked him, her own face contorted, making him think she could feel each stroke.
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine.” Because she didn’t need to stress. Not over him. Not over this.
She narrowed her eyes, but her dimple flashed at the corner of her mouth. “Liar.” The words were quiet, followed by a yawn so large, it was hard to believe it came from a woman so small. “Sorry,” she whispered.
She was tired. So tired, and she’d somehow migrated herself halfway onto his chair without him noticing.
“Come on,” he said, patting the spot beside him on the chair. “There’s room enough for the both of us.”
She glanced at him warily, assessing the small space, as though calculating in her head. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” she finally whispered.
Even as she said the words, she could barely keep her head upright. “You won’t mess anything up.” He chuckled. “Trust me.”
Her eyes fluttered closed again, but instead of arguing like he’d expected, she gingerly inched up the chair and crawled up into the space beside him. She was right, there really wasn’t enough room, because her body was halfway on top of his—she must have been too tired to care, because all she did was nestle her head into the crook of his shoulder, and yawn.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered. “I can’t feel my arm anymore anyway.” Which was a complete and total lie. It hurt like a mother, but he didn’t need her knowing that.
Her lips curved against his skin, and she yawned again. “Liar.” But she burrowed a little deeper, tickling his chin with the silky softness of her hair. “I just need a little rest is all,” she whispered, but her words were so faint, he could barely hear them. Then they trailed into nothingness, and she was asleep.
In a matter of seconds, her body surrendered completely into his side, melting against his skin, like butter left out in the sun. He tucked his arm around her form, and closed his eyes, trying not to think about how good she felt in him is arms.
This wasn’t the first time she’d fallen asleep like this, but it wasn’t often. It had been year as a matter of fact…but his body seemed to remember every inch of her, responding in the way any perfectly healthy man would. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He began focusing on the hum of the tattoo gun and reminiscing about all the stories Fe told him about her brothers. The bothers he was sure would kick his ass right now if they knew what his was thinking.
“Are you going to put a ring on that?” Brian asked, breaking him from his thoughts. Brian had removed the needle from his skin and was looking at him in a strange way.
“Excuse me?” Elliot asked, instinctively pulling Fe closer.
“Are you going to marry her?” Brian asked again, nudging his chin in Fe’s direction.
Elliot looked down to her face, which was smashed into his shoulder and appeared as peaceful as a baby.
The needle hit his skin again, forcing his attention back up to Brian.
“She loves you, dude,” he said to him over the buzzing. “Put a ring on it before someone else does, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
He thought about arguing with the guy, telling him how he’d gotten it all wrong, but for some reason, he couldn’t. “She doesn’t like me like that,” he said instead. Repeating the words she’d used earlier that week. The ones that stung deeper than an ass full of hornet stingers.
“But I’ll tell you one thing,” he said on a heavy bre
ath. “Whoever asks for her hand in marriage will have one hell of a battle on his hands. Because first he’ll have to get through her three brothers, and then he’ll have to get through me.” And Elliot wouldn’t give her up to just anyone. Especially not anyone with a stupid-ass name like Todd Peeking.
Chapter 7
“Fe, we’re done. It’s time to go home.”
The voice was deep, familiar, and made her smile in her sleep. She liked his voice, liked the tingle it caused to run the length of her skin, the comfortable rumble that rolled across her chest. It made her want to burrow a little deeper, get a little closer, just so she could hear it again. But at the same time, she was so sleepy, so deeply relaxed, that the baritone was like a southern lullaby, coxing her back to dream land.
“Fe? I don’t think she hears me. Fe?”
Eventually, another voice came from farther in the room, but this one wasn’t nearly as sexy. “She can’t weigh more than a buck, dude. Pick her up, carry her out to the car. I don’t think she’s waking up anytime soon.”
She heard some more muttering a while later, then felt warmth slip from under her body. She instinctively shivered, but soon, she was lifted again, and cradled against the warmth she craved more than the sun. She inhaled the delicious sent that reminded her of home. Of fresh laundry, the beach, mixed with a little bit of heaven. She burrowed in against him and fell quickly asleep.
“Fe?” There was that voice again. That delicious, comfortable, familiar voice. “Fe, we’re home. Wake up.”
There was a long pause, then a door opened and shut, and then another door opened and shut. “Damn it!” The voice faded, this time farther away and slightly above her.
Her body was lifted again, cradled against the familiar warmth. Bitter cold rushed over her face and skin, and her eyes fluttered, then cracked open, glancing around the courtyard. She was outside. In the dark. Someone was carrying her.
Why were they outside? Why was someone carrying her? She blinked a few times, realizing it was Elliot, and all the panic immediately faded out of her body.
He was walking with her up the staircase to their apartment, huffing and puffing before he stopped at the landing to pull his keys from his pocket. She thought about telling him she was awake, that he could put her down, but he was so warm, so comfortable, and she was so sleepy. She remained quiet, and soon, the door opened with a bang against their living room wall.
“Shit,” he whispered, causing her to almost giggle. He gripped her a little tighter, then held completely still.
He’d been telling the truth, she realized then. He really did cuss—that is, when he thought she wasn’t around to hear it.
He managed to close the door without dropping her, then carried her down the hall, where he opened the door to her room and lay her on her bed. She turned to her side, almost sad his warmth was gone, but burrowed into her mattress ready to find sleep again. She startled when he grabbed her ankle and began removing her shoes.
God, he was sweet. Possibly the sweetest human she’d ever encountered in her life. Maybe he shouldn’t forget all his mom taught him about manners. Maybe he should remember all these sweet parts. Like carrying women to bed and untying their shoe, and always being there to listen.
Soon, he was removing her flannel. Then he pulled the blankets to her shoulder and sat on the side the bed.
Her heart started pounding. Maybe because she wasn’t sure what he was doing there, or maybe because he seemed to be getting closer by the second, instead of moving farther away. She was reminded of their kiss, about all those months ago, and against her better judgement, she remained perfectly still, afraid to scare him off. If it was any other man, she would have thought they were there to take advantage, but Elliot was different. In all things, he was different.
She remembered meeting him that first day of college, where he sat in their English class studying his map. Elliot had such a thick accent then, he didn’t even have to tell her where he was from. But it was times like this, when he acted like no other man she’d ever met in her life, she wondered if he’d come from some place different. Far, far away from here.
He brushed the hair away from her face, tucking it softly behind her ear before pressing his lips to her temple. “Goodnight, Fe. Goodnight, my iron woman.” He stayed there for just a second longer, his lips pressed against her forehead, before he rose to his feet and walked across the floor.
He closed the door softly behind him, the sound causing her eyes to instantly spring open. Blurry, with unshed tears. She rolled from the bed and sat on the mattress facing her bedroom door.
“His iron woman?” she whispered. She’d never heard him call her that before. Twisting her fingers, she peered down to the floor, swallowing a heavy lump that had lodged itself in her throat. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, or why things seemed so complicated in that moment.
All she knew was that Mary Poppins better be good to him. “She better be so good to you, Elliot Prescott.”
Chapter 8
Planaria are a brown, cross-eyed, adorable flatworms with amazing regeneration abilities. Little did Fe know, they would also be responsible for what would be the most awful, emotional day of her life. It all started at the beginning of science week at Hillman’s Academy. Which meant five days, long hours, extra messes, and stressed out faculty.
Not to mention the hundreds of unfamiliar faces who came from neighboring schools looking to be entertained by petri dishes and the periodic table. But Hillman's Academy was known for its prestigious science program, and this week alone was responsible for seventy-five percent of the following years enrollment.
Entertaining this circus of science geeks, much to her dismay, was of “utmost importance.” And the week started out great. For the most part. On Monday, Fe passed out the little flatworms, and everyone, including Susie Baker who was known to be afraid of a fly, fell instantly in love. Fe didn’t blame them. They were adorably cute. Though they did kind of resemble a cross-eyed penis. Their straight little bodies, and large bulbous heads almost smiled at her… Regardless, the kids fell in love, and with a little coaxing, she was able to convince the children to cut the little buggers into pieces with their scalpels.
Planaria were used in the classroom to study stem cell regeneration. When cut in half, in quarters, or even 279 times, each section, should eventually regenerate into a new little worm. When Fe presented the idea to Mrs. King over a month earlier, she was over the moon with excitement, and gave Fe the go ahead to order all the supplies. This was a huge step in the right direction for Fe, because if there was any way she would ever get her own class room, impressing Mrs. King was it.
She just wasn’t sure where she’d gone wrong, as her trial the week before had gone remarkably smooth. But when the children collected their specimen from the closet that Friday afternoon, half of the little worms were dead.
D. E. A.D.
Deceased.
Floating on top of their little Petri dish homes.
Including Susie Baker’s, who immediately burst into tears and threw herself on the floor. Eleven-year olds were notorious assholes when it came to cleaning up after themselves, but Fe had to admit, when it came to empathy, they were spot on. Because it didn’t take long before all the children, all thirty-two of them, were crying like hound dogs in the middle of the science lab.
Fe fetched the box of tissues from Mrs. Kings desk, and started passing them out like lottery tickets. “You guys, it’s okay! You didn’t kill them, this is just part of life. Everyone will die eventually. Your cats, yours dogs, even your parents.” Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, as it only made them howl louder.
“Mija,” Mrs. Gomez said as she came into the room with her hands on her ears. “What happened?”
Fe was speechless, and for the first time a long time, she didn’t know what to say. In fact, every time she opened her mouth, it seemed to make matters worse.
“Cupcake died, that’s what happened!�
�� Susie howled.
And apparently, keeping quiet wasn’t the right answer either.
She had that feeling when the day began, that deep down twisting in her gut feeling, that naming these little worms was a bad idea. The more names that were spouted out, the more that twist coiled up like a spring, telling her to put an end to this madness. But the kids were so excited, so engaged in her lesson for the first time in a long while, that she threw caution to the wind and decided to just go for it.
Boy did she regret it now. Because Friday, Fred, Cupcake, Lemon, Thing One, and Thing two were all belly up and no longer swimming.
Eventually, Mrs. King came into the lab, finding Fe standing in the center of the room with a box of tissues in one hand and Tommy Jones hanging on the other. His arms wrapped around her waist, his nose burred into her side, blowing buggers into her lab coat. She was so distraught over the whole situation, she didn’t know what to say. She just stood there, her hopes and dreams of having her own class a long-forgotten memory.
What made matters worse, was that Mrs. King wasn’t alone. She brought Mr. Paulie, the assistant principle who always looked like he was constipated, with her.
“What in heaven’s name is going on in here?” he asked, squinting through his bifocals, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Well sir,” Fe began, glancing around the room to the dozens of children, crying in each other’s arms, sobbing in their desk, or sitting on the floor. “It seems a few planaria have kicked the bucket.”
The rest of the day went much the same. They held mini funerals in the school courtyard, sent children to talk to counselor and psychologists, and in general, a gray cloud of guilt followed Fe around everywhere she went for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time she made it home, Fe was not only delirious, anxious, and ready to crawl into bed and eat a whole bucket of ice cream, but she was also defeated. Until the scent of heaven hit her nose and she saw Elliot standing there in the kitchen wearing her pink apron.
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