by Claire Adams
“Well, in that case, I’ll try not to never speak to you again.”
“Promise?”
I smiled despite myself. “Goodnight, Phil.”
“Promise me first.”
I didn’t want to promise him anything and yet somehow, without my permission, the words rolled off my tongue as if of their own volition.
“I promise.”
Chapter Seven
Phil
I hurried into my apartment and shut the door. As soon as I had gotten my coat off, I called Megan and collapsed onto my sofa. It rung for quite a while, but she didn’t pick up. Disappointed, I hung up and stared at my phone. It had been three weeks since the awkward conversation where I’d told Megan that it was probably best that we just stay friends.
True to her word, she hadn’t stopped talking to me. We had resumed our strange friendship, and it was almost as though that conversation had never happened. Neither one of us ever mentioned it again, but there were moments when I could sense unsaid words standing between us, anxious to be heard.
I dialed Megan’s number again. My impatience to talk to her was telling, and my disappointment that she hadn’t picked up the first time was not at all healthy, and yet I was still unsure about getting involved with her. She was beautiful and smart and funny and incredibly interesting. She was easy to talk to, she was a good listener, and she actually cared about her future and where she ended up. Her need to better herself aligned with my philosophy in life, and that shared goal connected us in deeper ways.
But something was holding me back. I hadn’t been in a serious relationship since becoming a firefighter, but it was more than just my job. A part of me wondered if I even knew how to make a relationship work. It wasn’t as though I had any real examples of functional relationships in my life. My parents’ marriage was a farce, and every other couple I had come across were far from happy.
“Phil,” Megan answered my call breathlessly.
“Hi,” I said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No,” Megan replied. “It’s fine. I was just cleaning the bathroom.”
“What?”
She was panting slightly, but her breathing calmed down after a minute. “Actually, I was giving the whole apartment a good clean.”
“Why are you doing all the work?” I asked, frowning. “Where’s Brent?”
“Please,” Megan replied. “I don’t think Brent has ever cleaned this apartment. It took me five hours, but I’m finally satisfied.”
“Wow,” I said. “You actually cleaned the whole place by yourself?”
“Everything except Brent’s closet.”
“Brent’s closet?” I laughed.
“I know, right?” she said. “He refuses to lock the bathroom door—even when he’s in there. But the closet is completely off limits.”
“Eww,” I said. “You’ve walked in on him on the toilet?”
“It was horrifying,” Megan said dryly. “I might need to go to therapy to get the images out of my head.”
I laughed. “But seriously,” I said after I had sobered up a bit. “How is it living with Brent?”
She gave a little sigh that betrayed her. “Well, it’s fine most days.”
“That’s not exactly convincing.”
She paused for a moment. “I forgot how little Brent and I have in common,” she admitted. “There’s this assumption that family somehow fits together like puzzle pieces, but the truth is, we’ve always been so different, and sometimes I think…”
She trailed off, and I sensed that she was debating whether or not to finish her sentence.
“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “Tell me.”
“It’s awful.”
“Tell me, anyway.”
“No judgment?” she asked.
I laughed. “I promise.”
She gave another little sigh. “Sometimes I think that if we weren’t brother and sister, I’d probably never associate with anyone like Brent.”
“Ah…”
“I told you it’s horrible.”
“It’s not,” I assured her. “It’s honest, and the sad fact is, the truth hurts.”
“He’s been really nice agreeing to let me stay here, too,” Megan said.
I frowned. “Aren’t you paying rent?”
“Well, yeah—”
“And, you are doing all the cooking and cleaning, as far as I can tell.”
“Um—”
“Added to which you have a full-time job.”
“But—”
“So from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re the one doing Brent a favor.”
I could sense that Megan was a little amused when she replied. “It’s not like he asked me to do any of those things,” she said, defending her brother. “I mean, I volunteered.”
“And, did he try and stop you?” I asked. “Or at least offer up some help?”
“No…”
“My point precisely,” I said. “He likes getting you to do the grunt work because that means he doesn’t have to do shit. And trust me, if Brent can get out of doing work—any kind of work—he’s all in.”
“You really do know my brother,” she said, with a smile in her voice.
It made me long to see her face. It amazed me that it had been nearly two months since I’d last seen her. The memory I had of her now was slightly blurry, like a foggy picture from a few decades back. I could remember basic features—the beautiful hazel of her eyes and the brown-gold sheen of her hair—but the other details of her face eluded me.
Was it possible to fall in love with a voice? I wondered. There were moments when I really felt that you could. She hadn’t brought up meeting me, and I realized that it was because she was scared I might misconstrue the request. The only reason I was hesitating at this point was because I needed to figure out what I wanted and how badly I wanted it.
“He brought a girl home last night,” Megan said, cutting through my thoughts.
“What?”
“He brought a girl home last night,” she repeated.
“Who did?”
“Brent did,” Megan replied. “Did you just zone out on me?”
“Uh…no.”
“You did!” she said, in a lightly accusing tone.
“Sorry.”
She laughed. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I said, a little too quickly.
How could I explain to her that she was what was on my mind? How could I explain to her that her laugh made me feel warm inside or that her voice made me think of music and starlight or that her little silences and short pauses felt like an eternity because I hung on her every word?
“Come on,” she coaxed. “Tell me.”
“I was just—”
I was spared from having to answer when I heard a distinct thudding on my front door.
“What’s that noise?” Megan asked.
“Someone’s at my door,” I said, walking over. Then I looked through my peephole and raised my eyebrows. “You’ll never guess who’s standing outside my door.”
“Beyoncé?” Megan asked. “And if it is, I’m coming over immediately.”
“Brent.”
“My brother?” Megan said. “Ugh…how boring.”
I rolled my eyes as Brent kept thudding at my door. “He’s not patient, is he?” I asked, lowering my voice a little so that he wouldn’t be able to hear me.
“Patience has never been one of his stronger virtues.”
“That implies that he has some virtue.”
“Hey, dickwad!” Brent screamed. “Open the fucking door.”
“You’d better go,” Megan said. “We’ll talk later.”
Before I could protest that, she had already hung up. Annoyed at having my conversation with Megan cut short, I opened the door with a frown on my face.
“It’s about fucking time,” Brent said, breezing past me and going straight for the sofa. “What took you so long?”
“I was talki
ng to someone.”
“Yeah, I thought I heard you talking; who was it?” Brent asked. “And do you got any beer?”
“Nice English,” I couldn’t help but say.
He rolled his eyes. “Well?”
“No, I don’t have any beer,” I said. “I do have some bourbon though.”
“That’ll work,” he nodded. “Who were you talking to?”
“A friend.”
“Are you being cryptic for a reason?”
“I’m impressed you know that word.”
“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked.
“Here’s your bourbon,” I said, handing him a shallow glass.
“It was Megan, wasn’t it?” Brent asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I paused for a second. “Yeah…”
“You guys really hit it off at my party, huh?” I couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about my friendship with his sister.
“I guess so.” I nodded. “And, just so you know, we’re strictly friends.”
“Sure?” Brent asked, looking dubious.
“Completely,” I said. “We get along; we can talk to each other…we’re friends. That’s all.”
“Whatever you say,” he said. “So what are we doing?”
“Huh?”
“What are we doing now?” he asked.
“You want to do something now?” I asked, glancing at the time.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
“Listen, man; I have an early shift tomorrow. I should already be in bed.”
“It’s ten fucking thirty.”
“And, my shift starts at four fucking a.m.,” I shot back. “What do you want me to do?”
“Play hooky.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not in ninth grade,” I said. “I have a real job, and it requires commitment. I can’t just call in sick because I want to go party with a buddy the night before.”
I saw Brent’s eyes narrow as he got off the sofa and walked around the center table. “What happened to you, man? You used to be fun…you used to be young.”
I rolled my eyes. “You need to grow up.”
“And you need to grow down.”
“I… What the fuck does that even mean?” I demanded.
“It’s a saying.”
“That’s not a saying.”
“Sure it is,” he said stubbornly, walking towards the door. “I just said it.”
“You’re a fucking moron.”
“And, you’re a fucking party pooper.”
“I know life is a game to you,” I said. “But this job actually means something to me.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “You stand in front of buildings and spray them with water from a hose,” he said flippantly. “Hardly sounds like the great and noble calling you make it out to be.”
“Do you know how many firefighters die every year in this country?” I demanded. “Do you know how many sustain terrible injuries doing what we do?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to lay the answer on me,” he said carelessly. “Please tell me, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Get the fuck out,” I said tiredly.
He started walking down the hallway, whistling as he went. “I’m just saying,” he said. “You used to be fun.”
I shut the door and took a deep breath. Brent could be a real ass when he wanted to be, but I knew that when I first met him and had decided to put up with it then. I felt as though it was too late now to turn back the clock. And I realized that I didn’t even want to…because of Megan. Brent had been my road to Megan, and that meant it was worth putting up with him every now and again.
That thought was what helped me make my decision. That thought was what sent me to my phone again. I called Megan, hoping she hadn’t already fallen asleep.
“Megan?” I said, the moment she answered.
“No, Stanley.” She laughed. “Of course, it’s me. What’s up? I didn’t expect to hear from you again tonight.”
“I need to ask you a question,” I said, coming out with it before I could change my mind again.
“Wow…must be important if you’re calling me again just to ask it.”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” I said.
“Okay…what’s your question?” she asked curiously.
“Will you go out with me?”
There was a long pause on the other line. “What?” she said at last.
“Will you go out with me?” I repeated again, but this time more slowly.
“Uh… I’m a little confused,” Megan said. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I am.”
“But you said you didn’t have room in your life for a relationship.”
“I’ll make room,” I said, with sudden conviction.
“What about my brother?” she asked. “You said you didn’t want to risk your friendship with him by dating me.”
“Turns out…he isn’t that great a friend to begin with,” I said. I heard Megan’s lyrical laugh and felt a little surge of hope. “Is that a yes?” I pressed.
“That’s a yes,” she said at last.
Chapter Eight
Megan
Nerves kept driving me towards the bathroom mirror to make sure I looked okay. I had chosen to wear a white dress with thin straps and a gently flowing skirt that looked both casual and dressy at the same time. I wanted to look carelessly elegant and worried that my self-consciousness might betray the plan.
I had left my hair loose around my shoulders and had applied subtle makeup that highlighted my eyes and lips. I was wearing a thin black choker combined with a silver necklace, and as I stared at my reflection in the mirror I decided that I looked excited, but at the same time, I wasn’t trying too hard… I hoped. I kept walking back and forth, trying to keep my expectations at a minimum.
“You’ve been talking to him for two months, Megan,” I told myself. “It’s fine…you know him.”
And yet, it still felt like I was meeting him for the first time. But I supposed that the excitement of seeing him for only the second time since we met was making me feel that way. Phil had told me he would be around to pick me up at seven o’clock, but I saw him step out of his car at six-thirty. He was early, and I took that to be a good sign. We had agreed that on our first date it would be appropriate to go watch a movie together, considering half our conversations over the last couple of months had revolved around film.
I watched him enter the building and then waited patiently by the door. A minute later there was a gentle knock, and I took a deep breath and opened the door for him.
He just stared at me for a moment, and I marveled at how very good-looking he was. He eyes lingered on my face, and then he smiled.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” I replied.
He didn’t make a move to come in, and there was certain electricity that surrounded the moment. It was as though we needed to take things slow in order to savor this moment that had been two months’ worth of conversations in the making.
“You’re beautiful,” Phil said.
He said it as though he had never seen me before and hadn’t had any clue what I looked like until this moment. He said it as though it were a revelation; there was awe in his tone and admiration in his eyes. I liked to think that admiration bordered on desire, but I didn’t want to think too far ahead of myself.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“I mean… I knew you were beautiful,” Phil continued, and I could tell by his tone that he was as nervous as I was. “But I’d forgotten a little.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’d forgotten?”
“Well, that is to say… I hadn’t forgotten, really. It’s just that it’s been a while since we last saw each other.”
“Out of sight, out of mind?”
“No, of course not—”
His nervousness put me at ease, and suddenly, I f
elt relaxed, happy, and ready to be with him. “It’s okay,” I laughed, cutting him off. “I was just teasing. Come in.”
Phil gave a sigh of relief and walked inside. “Is Brent here?”
“Thankfully, no,” I said. “He’s out for the night, so you don’t have to worry about running into him here.”
“Good,” Phil said. “I mean…”
“It’s okay,” I laughed before he could try and explain himself. “I understand.”
“Did he tell you about the other day?”
“The day he came over while we were talking?”
Phil nodded. “He was being a jerk.”
“Which is what pushed you to ask me out?” I recalled.
He laughed. “In a way.”
“Well, I suppose I have something else to be grateful to my brother about,” I said. “Take a seat.”
We sat down together on the couch and angled our bodies towards one another. Our legs touched slightly, and our hands were only inches apart. I could feel little currents of excitement jolting up and down my arms and legs, and I could feel something happening inside me that had never happened before. Phil was looking at me almost shyly, and I returned his smile.
“Feels like we just met,” he said, breaking the silence.
I nodded. “It’s still me, though,” I said. “I’m the same girl you’ve been talking to for the last couple months.”
“It’s kind of unbelievable,” he said.
“What is?”
“It’s rare to find the kind of girl who’s funny, intelligent, cool, and who also happens to be beautiful.”
I smiled. “Don’t,” I said, looking down. “You’ll make me blush.”
I felt his hand touch mine and when I looked back up at him, he caught me by surprise by leaning in and kissing me. I felt a little gasp escape me as his lips came down over mine. They were soft but insistent—and they knew exactly what they were doing. My body responded almost immediately, and I lost all control as I surrendered to instinct.
My hands reached up and wrapped themselves around Phil’s neck. He pulled me in closer until our bodies were pressed up against one another. It started off as a tender first kiss, and then it became a fully-fledged make out session, and suddenly, Phil was on top of me, pushing up my skirt.