by J Bailes
I feel bad for him; I got my release, but he didn't. He was so close, right on the verge of exploding. I felt the throbbing from his vein against my tongue; then, BAM! Sophie's hammering my door down. He's right. She is a cock blocker.
Chapter Five
I CAN’T BELIEVE SOPH busted in on Blake and I. I swear I locked the door after I paid the delivery guy. Damn her and her lock-pickin' skills. She continues speaking to me as if nothing's happened. Although I'm fine, I can't get Blake out of my mind.
Poor guy. He's going to have the worst case of blue balls.
“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Soph asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face. She kidding, right? How can I possibly listen to anything coming from her mouth when I'm focused on how good Blake felt inside my mouth? I can still feel his throbbing against my tongue, taste the saltiness from his tip, so no, I can't hear a fucking word coming from her mouth.
“Ouch!” She just punched me in the boob “What the hell is that for?” I grab my breast tightly to ease the throbbing.
“For your ass, dazing off while I'm talkin' to you. When I talk, you listen, dammit!”
I don't know who in the hell she thinks she is, pointing her manicured finger at my nose; I'll cut that motherfucker off. “Really Soph? You expect me to listen to you talk about Collin fucking you in the back of Willie's when you just cum-blocked Blake! What I should do is kick you in the ass so hard, doctors can have a clear look into your colon from your asshole!” I scream. Oh hell no, this bitch is NOT laughing at me. “Oh, it’s funny?” I ask.
“Hell yeah, it's funny,” she exclaims. “I've know you for four years and I've never seen you sexually frustrated. Come here,” she pouts. She holds her arms out for me to hug her, but as soon as I give into her, she reaches behind me and squeezes my ass cheeks. “Want me to finish what he started?” she asks so seriously, I have no idea if she’s kidding or not.
“What the fuck? No,” I say, pushing her off me. “He took care of me. You're such a whore.”
“Oh yeah? All I'm sayin' is that girls know what girls want. Trust me, I've been there,” she explains, plopping down onto my couch.
I go over to take a seat beside her. “Well, all I'm sayin' is, when I decide to bat for my own team, I'd prefer not to lose myself inside the bat cave you've got down there.” I duck just in time to miss the pillow coming right for my head.
“Whatever, bitch, I kegel my ass off.”
Sophie and I spend the evening catching up on missed episodes of True Blood, swooning over Eric, Bill, and Alcide. Now most people believe vampires and humans have the greatest sex, but werewolves are gettin' it. I wouldn't deny Alcide my lady; I'd let him lick her until all flavor was gone. We finish the last episode and decide to take a popcorn and water break. Putting the popcorn in the microwave, I head over to grab two bottles of water.
“Al, what's this?” Soph asks, rummaging through Kyle's box.
“Just some stuff Kyle made when he was home last,” I shrug. I’ve cried enough today already, I’m over it. I’ve experienced the best orgasm I’ve had in over a year, enjoyed some television man candy, and cuddled with my best friend. In this moment I’m happy, and I don’t want to speak about Kyle.
“Stuff? Like what?” she asks curiously.
“Curiosity killed the cat. You know that, right?” She goes to open her mouth but is interrupted by the beeping from the microwave. I hope she'll drop the matter, but knowing her, it’s only a matter of time before she drags it out of me. I guess it's better to get it out of the way now. I open the popcorn bag and pour some into our bowls. “Kyle recorded videos for us in case something happened to him while he was overseas,” I explain.
“Oh. Did you watch them?” she asks worriedly.
I consider lying to her, but she'll see right through me; I'm a horrible liar. “Yeah, I watched them; one of 'em,” I reply honestly.
She scrunches her brows at me, and I know I'm fixing to get drilled with Sophie's one-hundred questions. “Only one? Why? There's three discs.”
I don't know how to explain my feelings to her. Both of Sophie's parents are living, and she's the only child. I don't think she's ever experienced the loss of a loved one. “Watching the first one just about killed me. How could I watch them all and still be able to breathe?” I ask. I await her answer, but she can't give me one - no one can. Just the memory from seeing his face on the screen earlier this afternoon brings unwanted tears to my eyes. I blink them back and shake my head, knocking the memories loose.
“C'mon girl, let’s go get our Tatum fix,” Sophie urges.
Carrying my popcorn, I head for the living room, but before I make it to the couch, Sophie jumps in front of me, causing me to drop my bowl. “Shit, sorry about that,” she apologizes, crinkling her nose. “I just want you to know you can talk to me. I know you think I won't understand, but I'll try my best. You're my sista from anotha mista.” She throws in a small smile. “When you hurt, I hurt, Allie,” she says sincerely. Nodding my head, I kneel down to clean up the mess she caused. "I mean it, Al. I'm here for you," she insists. I've heard that line one too many times. Truth is, no one's here for me, ever.
We're in the middle of watching “Magic Mike” when my phone vibrates. A smile instantly spreads across my face when I view a text from Blake.
Blake: Hey babe, miss me?
Me: Hell yeah ;)
Blake: SS still there?
Me: Yeah. That can be changed, if you'd like...
I wait a minute, but I receive no response. As I set the phone down, I return my attention back to the movie, my eyes resting on a stripper dressed in a fireman costume twirling a heavy set lady; it's my Alcide - told ya werewolves are strong. Ten minutes later my phone vibrates.
Blake: Na, enjoy some girl time. Night, pretty girl, sweet dreams.
Me: Night, dream of me! :p
Blake: Impossible not too...
I'm falling for him, hard. He’s slowly but surely putting the pieces of my heart back together, allowing it to trust again. I mean, I’ve always been attracted to Blake, but looks do not make a relationship, trust does. Blake hasn’t done anything to prevent me from trusting him, but when two of the people you trusted most lie to you, leave you; it makes trust a nonexistent emotion. I look over to a sleeping Sophie. The movie ends and I refuse to carry her ass upstairs. Pulling the fleece throw from the back of the couch, I spread it over her, turn the television and lights off, and then make my way to bed.
Once I'm halfway up the steps, I don't feel like sleeping alone. I’m tired of it always being this way. Making my way back down the steps, I return to the couch. Lifting up the blanket, I slide in behind Sophie, spooning her. As I lie here in the darkness, it's quiet and Kyle's words replay in my mind. It's understandable that he doesn't want me to mourn, because I wouldn't want him to mourn me; however, I don't understand why he would ask Wyatt to leave me. He said he thought it was best, but why? Why would he intentionally hurt me? He asked me to forgive Wyatt for him, but I can't. Wyatt has a mind of his own. If he loved me as much as he claimed, he wouldn't have left me. He could have left some sort of explanation, a card, a call, anything, but I got nothing.
He took my virginity that night, declared his love for me, then disappeared. The thing I feared most happened. It's what your parents spend their time telling you: never listen to boys because they'll tell you anything to get inside your pants - fuck me if they weren't correct. Soph must feel my body tense because she reaches around to rest her hand on my leg, gently rubbing the outside of my thigh, helping me to relax, and eventually, I fall into a deep sleep.
My heart flutters in excitement as he knock on the door. I reach for the door knob to welcome him home, but for some odd reason it isn't there. Looking around the living room, I realize there aren't any windows either. My only option is to kick the door down. He begins to speak to me, but I'm unable to hear his mumbles; they're drowned out by the thick cedar door separating us. Trying my best to get to h
im, I punch and kick the door with all my strength; however, it does nothing to the door, not even a chip in the wood.
Attempting to tear down this door feels like I'm trying to move mountains - it's not happening. I bring my eyes to the peephole just to be sure he's still there, because his mumbling has turned silent. I see his face, but the glare from the light surrounding him makes is difficult to see his features. He's moving his lips, but no words come from him. I need to get to him, but how?
Where's the fucking doorknob?
The light shining into the peephole begins to go dim. Sneaking another peek, I see him with his back towards me. He's walking away, leaving me again "No! Kyle, no, please - stop!" I scream, but he continues walking as if he can't hear me.
I have to scream louder.
"Kyle, don't leave me! Please, please, please, come back!" I sob. "Take me with you, please," I scream.
He's gone.
He didn't bother trying to get to me. Placing my back against the door, I slide down and let the river flow. Tears stream down my face like waterfalls, and water begins to rise up my legs, quickly flooding our home. I try to force the tears back, but they’re out of my control; the harder I try to contain them, the more forceful their flow becomes. I attempt to stand as the water rises to my chin, but I'm pulled under by the current. The water's freezing and it causes my body to burn, feeling as if I've been thrown into a bed of pins and needles.
I'm drowning.
This is what Kyle wanted. He came to warn me,
“Wake the fuck up!” Sophie yells, terrified.
I feel a blow to my face, and it stings like a motherfucker. “Shit!” I scream. Opening my eyes, I grab my cheek. It feels like it's on fire. “What the fuck are you thinking, Soph? God dammit!” I sit up, pushing her off me so she falls to the floor.
As her panicked eyes look up at me I realize there are tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ohmygod, Sophie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to knock you to the floor.” I kneel on the floor in front of her as she swipes the tears from her cheeks. “Soph, what's wrong?”
Her face looks pained. “Allie, do you have any idea what you were doing? Do you know the words that were flowing from your mouth?”
I remember my dream, most of it. “I believe I remember most of it, why?” I ask.
“You crushed my fucking heart, Allie. You were in so much pain, pleading for Kyle, asking him to take you with him. You started gasping for air and shit; shaking like you were having a seizure. I screamed your name several times, hit you with pillows; I had no other choice but to bitch slap you, hard. You scared the shit out of me, literally - look,” she says, turning around and pointing to her bottom.
I bust out in laughter. She really shit herself. Ohmygod! I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts and my cheeks are in pain.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” Soph seethes angrily. Taking one of the pillows, she slams it into my face.
“Ouch! I-I'm sorr-” I'm laughing so hard I can't finish my sentence.
“Laugh all you want; they're your panties anyway.” I silence instantly. “Yeah, bitch, who's laughin' now?” she says, making her way to the bathroom.
I stand and run after her, but she slams the door in my face, locking it behind her. “Look, I'm sorry I scared the shit out of you, literally,” I can barely contain my snicker, “but you better not put those funky panties in my hamper,” I giggle. Am I being insensitive, yes, but to be honest, I've never made someone shit themselves before; this shit is just too good to ignore. Pun intended.
The next morning, I wake up alone with a note on top of my pillow that reads;“Have to meet Mom for brunch. Don't worry, I put the shitty panties in the fireplace :) Oh, I hope they stink up your house! I hope the smell permanently latches onto your nasal hairs and you have to smell me the rest of your slutty life <3 Soph.”
Jumping out of bed, I run for the fireplace. On the mantel hangs another letter from Sophie. I tug it lose from the tape and open it. “Ha! Fooled ya! I placed 'em in your mailbox! Be sure to enjoy that shitty situation ;)” I'm gonna kick her ass! I grab gloves, tongs, a plastic bag, and then head for the mailbox; she's right, it's a shitty situation alright. It's at least eighty degrees and the sun's shining straight down on the mailbox, and who knows how long they've been melting in here.
Pulling the door down, I gag; such a big, shitty gorilla ball! Holy hell, what died in here? Using the tongs to grab the panties, I place them into the plastic bag, tie it in a double knot and throw it into the garbage can at the end of our driveway. My heart goes out to whoever picks this shit up; the stench is going to melt their nostril hairs.
I go back inside and continue with my normal everyday routine. Mom texted me earlier to inform me that she'd be home later this afternoon; it's five in the evening and she still isn't here. I have no clue what she's been doing, where she's been, or who she's with. I'm worried about her. She has a small handful of friends and most of them have called here asking for her, so I want to know who she's spending so much time with.
Here I am mourning my brother - her son, and she's out livin' it up, not giving a damn about my wellbeing - not that anyone does, but shit, she's my mother. She should be here helping me through my pain, dammit.
I heard through the neighborhood gossip that she quit her second job at the church last week, so she can't be that fucking occupied. I understand her being gone during the day, but for her to evacuate our home for weeks at a time is ridiculous. My stomach lets out a loud growl. I check the time on my phone and it reads six-thirty. Where is she? She told me she was going to pick up Chinese take-out and grab a movie; it shouldn't take her an hour to complete those two simple tasks. Just as I begin to dial her number, a loud thud sounds from outside the door. Running over to look out of the window, I see my mom with her hands full, purse hanging off her shoulder, and she's digging for her keys. Why doesn't she just ring the doorbell?
Swinging the door open, I help her in. “Why didn't you just ring the bell? Would've been a lot easier," I sigh dramatically. She walks past me, giving me a once-over.
“What's wrong with you?” What the hell is it with her and once-overs? Normally, people who give you a so called “once-over” either hate you or want a piece of you - you do NOT give them to your daughter! Shutting the door, I follow her into the kitchen. Removing our food from the brown bags, she takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest. And I know that she's watching me because I can feel her eyes on me.
Call me childish if you'd like, but I still believe in giving the silent treatment when someone's wronged me. I don't look at her; I don't acknowledge her in any way. Opening the containers, I empty the contents onto my plate, looking back inside the bag in search for chopsticks. I don't know why; I don't know how to use the damn things. As I search through the bags, my mother clears her throat and begins to tap her shoe against the tile impatiently, but I continue to ignore her.
“Allie, is there something you want to get off your chest?” Really? She's going to give me attitude? She's the one who abandoned me while I'm in the most vulnerable state of mind. Shaking my head, I remain silent and continue to make my way out of the kitchen. I flip on the television and put in “The Call” DVD; it's our movie of choice this week.
I go over to take a seat on the floor ready to dig in.
“I don't know what's going on with you and all your bitchiness, Al, but if you've got something you need to say to me, say it," she hisses.
Ohmygod....I'm choking, on chicken! I can't believe the words that just left her mouth, Mom never curses - I'm rubbing off on her. Is it sad that I'm choking because I heard the word “bitchiness” leave her lips? I sucked in a breath to begin laughing, but sucked down some chicken instead. It's like catching the little old lady who attends your church dropping F-bombs in the middle of service. Oh yeah, it's happened before; funniest shit ever.
Mom doesn't attempt to help me dislodge the chicken from my throat, because according to her, I'm not in any danger. She s
ays if you can tell someone you're choking, or you're able to cough, you aren't actually choking. Yeah, well, tell that shit to the person whose airway is constricted by a fucking piece of Chinese chicken! Oh shit. I'm seeing spots. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Placing my hands over my throat, I give her the national I'm choking sign, but she doesn't help me. It’s official; she's trying to kill me off. After about five minutes of coughing, I finally cough out the foreign object. “Thanks for the help,” I wheeze.
“Oh please, you weren't choking; otherwise, I would've helped you, you know that.” Do I? Do I know that? Hell, I'm not even sure I know the woman standing before me anymore.
“How many people die from choking?” I ask curiously.
“Well statistics say around 2,500 each year.”
You've got to be shitting me! “2,500?” I confirm.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well the amount of deaths would decrease significantly if you'd perform the Heimlich maneuver while the person's actively choking. You know, when there's coughing and difficulty breathing from something like, umm, I don't know, a piece of chicken in their throat!” I don't know where medical personnel come up with this shit. Coughing, gasping for air, pleading for help, equals choking. No words, no coughing - that shit equals death!
“Clearly, you're fine." She's laughing at me like I'm some sort of joke, but I'm as serious as a heart attack. In fact, I'm going to do some research on how to educate the people that come up with the guidelines for performing such things as the Heimlich maneuver and CPR - the shit needs to be revised.
We take our places on the couch and begin the movie, and let me tell you that Halle Berry plays one bad-ass operator. I don't want to give away the details and ruin it for you, but it's a must-watch. Mom has been unusually quiet tonight. It must have something to do with the bitchy childish vibe I’m letting off. As the movie ends, we say our goodnights and head to bed. While I climb the steps, she speaks to me for the first time since my choking incident. She asked me out to brunch tomorrow morning; there's someone she wants me to meet. I'm hoping it's her mysterious friend. I seriously need some answers into what the hell is going on with my mom and who has taken her hostage. Because I’ll be damned if I believe that the woman I spent tonight with is the woman who gave birth to me. Nope. Something is most definitely off.