by Roya Carmen
I threw my head back, livid. I don’t know if it was because he’d called me ‘kid’, but I desperately wanted to break him down. I needed to get to him, to make him mine. I reached for him and grabbed his arm. “Look at me,” I scoffed.
He whipped around, and I pressed myself hard against him, shoving us both against the wall. I splayed my hand against his chest and slid it down his torso until I could feel his arousal. “You like what you see?” I whispered.
A soft moan escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes. He was helpless in my hands. “You like what you see?” I asked again.
Eyes shut, he replied, “What do you think, Abigail?”
“You want to fuck me?” I breathed, the words surprising not only him, but myself too.
He bit his bottom lip and with a pained breath, he whispered against my ear. “Abigail, don’t… Don’t talk like that. It’s… not you.”
He stared at his feet, refusing to look at me. My hand was still pressed against his erection, and he grabbed my arms forcefully and pushed me back to the opposing wall. He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt. “You need to get the fuck out… now,” he snapped. He picked up my jacket from the floor, and scrambled to cover me as fast as he could. “You’re fifteen, kid. You can’t be here like this.”
“Who was she?”
He stilled. “Who?”
“The woman who was here before, the one with the red heels and big tits.”
He shifted, hands still pressed against me, keeping me covered. “A girl I’m seeing.”
My heart sank. “Are you having sex with her?”
He blew out a long breath, the heat of it warming my cheek. “Yes… I am. I’m having sex, Abigail. I’m a twenty-five year old man and I like sex.”
“That’s what you like, I guess… women like her.”
He stared at the wall, and visible anger etched his features. “God, Abigail. You’re going to be the end of me.” He grabbed me hard, too hard, and flipped me around to face the door. “Now you need to get out of here.” He opened the door and shoved me out without apology, so harshly, I almost fell down the three steps. Thankfully I held on to the railing just in time. He slammed the door shut.
When I got my balance back, I quickly scrambled and slipped my jacket back on. I was okay. I was upright and walking. I was fine.
But my heart was another matter. It was in complete shambles.
21
July was always my favorite month of the year. Summer time; hot, carefree, school still far away. Summer days at the park were filled with walks, bike rides, fishing and swimming at the lake, and bumming around on our four wheelers. Nights were reserved for bonfires at the sand dunes, and hanging in Izzie’s mosquito proof tent, playing cards and board games. And occasionally, we’d even go to the drive-in about twenty minutes away.
We were seeing a double feature, and Izzie and I were as excited as two chipmunks with mouths full of nuts. The Fast and the Furious and The Others. The boys were psyched about the first movie, but we were more worked up about the second. We’d heard that it was really spooky. The boys in question were Pete and his friends. My dad knew nothing of this of course, because there was no way in hell he would have let me go if he did. Yes… two fifteen year old girls with four guys in their twenties. I didn’t know it at the time, but today, thinking back, I realize it was so wrong.
Izzie and I were standing in line at the concession stand when I first spotted him in the line next to us. He was with her again, the girl with the boobs and heels. She wore stylish wedges, a jean skirt and white t-shirt. She was saying something and he was smiling. She looked sexy, and my whole body stiffened at the sight of her. I watched them unapologetically until he turned and finally noticed me. He stilled when he did, as though this were the last place he expected to see me. I didn’t smile. I didn’t wave. I didn’t retreat either or turn around. My brain was flushed with recollections of that horrible night when he shoved me out the door, threw me out like a bag of trash.
We stared at each other for a long beat, until his date turned and spotted me. He tore his gaze from me then, and said something to her. She didn’t seem too concerned. And why should she have been? I was just a kid. Nothing to worry about.
Izzie and I got a large bag of popcorn, a big Coke and a bag of Skittles to share. Izzie was giddy and giggly and I wondered if she had taken a little something. She knew I had no interest in drugs, but Pete and his friends indulged often.
Pete’s buddy, James, smirked at me as we inched closer. “You sitting on me, girl?” he teased
“Hell, no.”
“But there’s six of us, and only five seats,” he pointed out.
“Back off, Jamie,” Pete cut in. “In your dreams.”
I wondered where we would all sit. I didn’t want to sit on Izzie like I had on the ride there. I exhaled a breath of relief when Pete pulled out two lawn chairs from the back of his SUV. He had backed into the spot, and popped open the back hatch. Jamie and Steve sat on the chairs, and Pete, his friend Colin, Izzie and I were stretched out in the back of the SUV, cramped in like sardines. I didn’t know Colin very well, but he seemed nice enough. He didn’t give off creepy vibes like Pete and Jamie did.
We dug into our popcorn, and we were having a blast. But all the while, I was thinking of Gavin. I’d searched for his blue pick-up in the busy lot, but it was nowhere in sight. It was only when the boys pointed to the vintage Mercedes convertible that I noticed him. He had finished fixing the car and it looked amazing.
“That’s a sweet ride,” Jamie said. “And that chick is fucking hot.”
“That’s Foster,” Pete said. “He’s a dick. Killed a girl, ya know.”
“What?” Colin chimed in.
“Apparently, he was drunk… hit and run.”
I shook my head. It wasn’t even true.
The movie was on, and I stared at the screen, but all I could think about was Gavin and his date. Were they making out right now, steaming up the windows? Was he touching her the way I wished he could touch me?
At intermission, Izzie and I stumbled back to the concession stand to go pee — Pete had poured a few shots of vodka in our Cokes. To our dismay, there was a long line. Izzie was dancing, aching to go. Thankfully, I hadn’t indulged quite as much as she had, or maybe I just had a bigger bladder.
I spotted Gavin again, stepping out of the men’s washroom. I don’t know what possessed me but I bolted after him, despite the ten or so ladies behind me. Hopefully, Izzie could hold my spot. When I caught up to him, I grabbed his arm.
He jerked around.
“Having a good time?” I asked.
He drew in a long breath. “Never mind about me, Abigail. What in the hell are you doing with those guys?”
“What? They’re nice. I especially like Colin. He’s cute,” I chirped, a feeble attempt to make him jealous.
“They’re too old for you,” he scoffed. “Too old to be hanging out with fifteen year old girls.”
I laughed. “Well, at least they don’t shove them out of doors. I almost broke my neck. I could have been paralyzed.”
He smiled. “Yes… well, you didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, Abigail.”
“Yeah, I get it. You weren’t too impressed with my little stunt.”
He shook his head. “Oh… Abigail. God, you have no clue…” his words trailed off and I found myself speechless.
He grabbed my arm. “Promise me you won’t hang with those guys again?”
I stood up straighter. “Why should I? You’re not the boss of me.”
“You’re not… you know… involved with one of them?” he asked. “Are you?”
“What if I was? What would you do about it?”
“I would go beat the crap out of him.”
For some reason, I really liked that answer, and I wanted to reassure him. “Well, if you must know… my chastity is still intact. I’m still a virgin.”
He smiled. “Good.”
I gri
nned playfully. “I’m saving myself for someone special.”
His smile grew wider. “You should. You make sure you don’t give it away too easily… make sure he loves you. And make sure you use protection. I don’t want to see you knocked up.”
I stared at the ground, mildly embarrassed. “Yes, Dad.”
“I’m sorry. I just worry about you. That Izzie is a bad seed.”
My head jerked up. “She’s not.” How dare he speak badly about Izzie.
But deep inside, I knew he was right.
“Well, I should get back,” he finally said.
“Yeah, me too. I have to go pee.”
He smiled and waved as he turned, and I walked back to the concession stand, all smiles. We were good again. We hadn’t spoken since that awful night, and now the air had finally cleared.
Izzie and I settled back into the SUV and waited anxiously for the start of The Others. Under the stars and a full moon, cuddled together underneath thick blankets, it couldn’t have been a better night to watch a scary movie.
“So you’re back together?” Mischa chirps. “Are you an official couple now?”
I don’t know why but I blush at her words. Are we a couple? I’m crazy about him, but no, we’re not a couple. We’ve been close in the most intimate ways, yet, he still feels like a stranger in many ways.
“Nope… not really. I don’t know what we are,” I confess. “It’s confusing.”
Claudia reaches for her glass of iced tea. “Yeah, tell me about it. Relationships are so confusing. I think I might just become a nun.”
“You would look great in a black habit,” Gretchen chimes in.
“Do nuns even wear those still?” Mischa asks. “When was the last time you’ve all seen a nun?”
“We should go to church more often,” Gretchen points out.
“I don’t think nuns hang out in churches,” Mischa says. “I wonder where they hang.”
“Convents?”
“Uh… ladies, I thought we were talking about Abby and Noah,” Claudia chimes in. “I want the juicy deets.”
I smile. “Oh crap… and here I thought I was going to get away with not talking about him.”
“Oh, girl, you know us better than that,” Claudia says. “We need to know everything.”
“Well…” I say, at a loss. Everything. Even I don’t know everything. In fact, it seems like I don’t know much at all. “Well, like I’ve said before, he’s a musician, and he plays a lot for me on the piano.”
Gretchen sighs audibly. “That’s so romantic.”
“It’s fucking sexy is what it is,” Claudia says.
I laugh. “Yeah.” I sigh at the recollection of him shirtless at his piano, the curves of his back and the tattoos on his shoulders.
“So tell us about him,” Claudia says. “We want to know all there is to know.”
“Well, he’s pretty private,” I explain. “So even I don’t know that much… he used to work as a waiter, he studied at Juilliard, he likes James Patterson novels, he has an amazing vinyl collection… and he has tattoos on his shoulders.”
“Sexy,” Mischa chimes in. “What are they? The tattoos?”
I smile, remembering my fingers tracing the designs. “One is a music note, and the other is the letter E.” I still wonder about the E, and what it could mean.
“Does he have any brothers and sisters?” Claudia asks. “Where is he from? What’s his sign?”
I shift a bit, slightly ill-at-ease. Should I know all this? I probably should. “He has a brother, but he hasn’t said anything about him, or his parents, and he’s from Chicago… I’m not sure when his birthday is.”
“Well, let’s hope he’s a Scorpio,” Claudia is quick to add. “Scorpios are super intense and dynamite in bed.”
Well, he definitely is that… intense and dynamite in bed.
I reach for my cup of tea, thankful to be surrounded by my friends. Yes, they’re all very nosy, but I couldn’t live without them.
22
Gavin and I reunited after the chance meeting at the drive-in. I brought him muffins and cupcakes almost every day, sliding myself back into his heart through his stomach. I’m sure he gained a few pounds, but there was also a permanent smile on his lips. Our friendship should have never faltered. It was something special. I knew it, and so did he.
“And she was always wearing those silly tall heels she could barely walk in. I wanted to tell the poor girl to get herself a pair of sneakers,” he was saying, talking about his ex girlfriend.
I laughed. “Maybe she just wanted you to think she was sexy.”
Gavin smiled. “Sexy is not what you wear, Abigail. Sexy is what’s up here,” he tapped his head with his index finger. “Sexy is the way you smile, your voice, your laugh, the whole package. You can’t buy sexy.”
“Oh goodie, because all I have is sneakers.”
An impish smile traced his lips. “What about those boots?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate. We both knew what he was talking about.
“Those were my mom’s,” I explained. “I guess they’re mine now. They’re a little too big, but maybe I’ll grow into them.”
“You probably will.”
I smiled playfully. “And the panties were Izzie’s,” I confessed. “I stole them.”
His jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” I admitted, “but then I washed them, and snuck them back into her drawer. She probably never noticed they were gone.”
“Such a good girl.”
I didn’t quite understand why, but his words aroused me. I wanted to hear them, stretched out under him, his mouth on my breasts. I still had those fantasies, but I scolded myself every time they popped up.
Bad girl.
I press down the folds of my skirt, relieved to be sitting down. My heels pinch my toes something fierce when I walk. I don’t know how Mischa, Gretchen and Claudia walk in these things all the time. I’ve been in this courtroom before; the walls are high, the air is stiff, and everyone sits a little too upright. The attorneys are showmen, dressed in their finest.
I’m nervous as I always am. What would my dad think of me right now if he could see me? In my Donna Karan skirt suit and Nine West heels? The little park girl didn’t do too badly for herself. But he won’t ever see me like this. He passed away five years ago. Cardiac arrest. Daniel and I went to my hometown of course. Nick and Jake and I barely said two words to each other. It might have been the two most uncomfortable days of my life. Daniel couldn’t wait to get out of there, and I couldn’t blame him.
Jake had fared better than Nick. He worked as a mechanic and had a longtime girlfriend at the time, a sweet girl. I think her name was Heidi. But Nick was unemployed, and seemed intoxicated. He’d knocked up a girl with a boy he never saw. His son’s name was Jonathan and he was three. He’d be… I’m doing the math in my head when I’m called to the stand. He’d be eight years old today.
I’m shaking with nerves. I’m always nervous when I’m called up, despite the fact that all I’m doing is communicating my findings. The people in the courtroom are not judging me. They are judging the defendant. I’m always concerned about coming off as a cold bitch because my job is simply to state the facts, nothing more.
I’m facing George Young, the silver fox, and I can only imagine how awkward this would be if I’d accepted his offer of going to lunch. I’m sure there’s a rule about attorneys not dating their testifying witnesses. But I’m sure he doesn’t care.
We go through the usual motions, identifying myself and communicating the role I play in this case. Abigail Cooper. Social Worker for Warden Social Services, BCWS. Etcetera… the same old song.
“On February 8th of this year, you visited the home of Madison Perez on a court sanctioned visit. What were your concerns as listed in your report, dated March 6th?”
This can all be found in the report, but the court needs to hear it from me. It’s all just a little more effective that way.
“In fact, what did your findings indicate about meals?” George asks, already knowing the answer.
“Uh… it was discovered that Madison often makes her own meals. In fact, she cooks for her parents when they’re incapable of cooking themselves.”
“By incapable of cooking… what do you mean? Can you elaborate, Miss Cooper?”
“When they’re too tired or… intoxicated.” My heart sinks. I feel like a real bitch. I don’t dare look at Madison’s mother. I feel like I’m betraying her, but all I’m really doing is telling the truth. I hate to tear a child from her own mother, but I only have the best interest of Madison at heart. I keep my eyes on Madison’s aunt. She’s sporting a fancy suit and heels, perfectly styled hair, and seems content with the proceedings.
I testify for the next twenty minutes or so, my heart pounding all the while. My gaze avoids Colette’s and sticks to Colleen’s. Every now and then, George shoots me a reassuring smile, silently communicating that I’m doing a good job.
When I’m finally released from the stand, I exhale a breath of relief. My job here is done.
The proceedings rest for the day following my testimony. I follow George out of the courtroom, more than ready to exit the building and forget all about today. He stops to chat with an elderly man, one of his past clients. I stand by, not sure if I should just wave goodbye and move along, or if I should wait for him. What is the protocol here? My breath hitches when someone jerks my arm. I turn around to find Colette, looking frantic.
“How can you do this to us?” she scoffs. “I invited you into my home.”
My heart catches in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job?!” she snaps. “You’re taking a girl away from her family is what you’re doing.”