I just want to bolt.
“Hey now, slow down.” Mal almost smiles. My entire body set ablaze by his tone. I whirl around, but he has both arms out, keeping me safe from the rest of his breakable shit.
My back is against his chest. One ab is pressed against my lower back, and I can’t think with him manhandling me like this. “Stop that,” I demand, or at I am least trying to, but I can’t say much of anything with him looking at me like he is, like he wants to laugh because I’m such a spaz—or kiss my eyelids.
Fuck. I did not just think that.
“I can’t stop anything if I don’t know what I did.” Mal’s voice was suddenly heated. We were almost the same height when he was all leaned over like that. His lips are brushing my nose. I breathed him in because I simply couldn’t help it and I all I got was frost on my skin.
The snow globe had invaded into my personal business. I couldn’t make sense of it.
“You touched me,” I told him, “and you snuck up behind me like some creepy-ass cat. I hate when people do that. Announce your presence, tie a ball around your neck.”
I did not just say that. What the heck?
Mal laughed. Full on smiled and laughed. His eyes crinkled, and he looked so handsome right then I wanted to eat him.
I looked down and stepped away from him.
“I’m going to wear this, and that.” I picked up the smelly shirt a pair of what looked like jogging pants. “You cool with that?”
Mal nodded.
“Then move your ass and let’s get to it.”
Back Together - Mal
I woke up on Sunday after having dreamt of only her green hair, brown eyes, soft and hard words, all of it mixed together.
I woke up hurt.
I was still shirtless, half covered by a duvet that hadn’t been washed since forever. The hot sun fucking hurt, I tried to roll over but my muscles ached, and I wanted to vomit all over.
I felt somewhat sober. Awake. Alert. My vision did not blur.
Okay. This was weird. I get up and once again head for the shower, stripping off my underwear on the way there. I glance at myself in the bathroom mirror. My emo hair. My green eyes.
My body that the girl went all weak in the knees for. What do they see in me? The girls I sleep with I mean.
What do they see that makes them want me? Is it that obvious that I have money? If it is something about me is lying. My family has money, it’s not mine. Whatever I take is only borrowing. In reality, I have nothing worth giving. I look away from my face, turning slowly away. I don’t want to look at myself today. I kick back the shower curtain. I turn the water to a spray and jump into the tub haphazardly. The water hits me in the face. I close my eyes; it feels like ice. It stings.
I start washing, reaching down for a bottle of soap that needs to be filled up. I slather my chest, my arms. Washing and scrubbing and rubbing. I harden at the memory of what I was dreaming.
Flo pressed against me, begging for me to stay.
I’m disgusting. Repulsive really. Flo would totally roll her eyes at me.
Can you hear me Ruthie? I hear you always. I hear you thinking and breathing even if it’s just a memory. I hold you with me. I need you with me. Remembering you is like breathing. I feel your hand holding mine, and it doesn’t feel like a dream. Not really.
It feels real in all of the ways that holding you could be. Like somehow you are here, you are touching me. It doesn’t feel like you’re alive but somehow in between maybe? Like you’ve battled against space and time to get back to me. Would you ever do such a thing? Maybe.
I rinse my body, bringing myself into a pathetic ecstasy before washing all the evidence of self-satisfaction away. That is all that I get nowadays. I head downstairs after showering because I’m starving. I open the fridge and frown when I find it empty. I should not be surprised. I hate buying groceries. I usually pick up enough to get me through a few days at a time. I guess I know where I’m headed today.
I pulled on a pair of pants with a draw string waist. I don’t tie it tight. I’m shirtless in the hot sunlight, yet I still find myself shivering. Somethings feel different and strange about today. I don’t know why.
I look around me. Nothing is moving. My kitchen looks the same, bland and boring. My tan kitchen cupboards are all closed, hiding messes but looking a lot nicer than they did last night. As if someone attempted to tidy up the place. Okay, maybe something does look strange.
I’m not an all-out slob by any means, but I am also not an insane neat freak. I’ve never liked cleaning, that was Flo’s thing (when she was PMSing at least, only when she was PMSing). It was as if she could work her frustration away. The counters are halfway decent; I must have done it in some drunken state. Yeah, that almost makes sense.
I pick up a half empty can of pop and take a drink before rearranging my face. It tastes disgusting. I pour what’s left into the sink and wash it away before tossing the can into the recycling. I have the sudden urge to clean. This scares me. I don’t know how to clean. I have no idea where to start or what must take place for me to do such a thing. I know this makes me sound like such a guy, but my mom never made me clean.
She did everything for me, which is why I moved out and tried to run away. So many times, I just wanted to be free. I wanted to think for me. I wanted to make myself happy and bring myself the misery. I was sick of my mother delivering it for me. I turn on the sink, grabbing a clean dishrag out of the drawer; I start to clean, scrubbing the counters and the back-splash leaving soapiness behind me.
I love lemon scented things.
I move some dirty plates out of the sink after scrubbing them clean with the pre-used soapy dishrag. The thought of spreading bacteria of some kind vaguely occurs to me, but I don’t give the thought much time.
I keep wiping. Cleaning. Scrubbing.
Singing. I can’t remember the last time that I did this. sang out loud into the silence without any accompanying music and lyrics. I just like the feel of it. I also like the sound of it. I sing for Flo and for what we have. I feel almost okay for a moment before I allow the terror to seep back in. Are these the only kind of moments that I will ever get? Fleeting happiness? Will my life ever feel normal again? Will I ever be able to withstand the wind?
Memories and moments are threatening to break in. It’s only when I notice that an actual person is trying to get in that I realize I’m dancing half naked in my kitchen as I put away my dishes.
“Keep your pants on!” I threaten, making my way to the back door in the living room. I have such an ass-backwards townhouse.
It is home though.
I plod barefoot into the living room. I look around; I look at the couch covered in pillows, my dusty television and the remote. Fuck I need to vacuum and take the garbage out. I made a list of other mundane and normal things I need to do before unlocking the deadbolt. I pull open the door and feel something inside me move.
I know the woman that I’m looking at right now, only I don’t because now her once burnt orange hair has formed a sort of halo. It is glowing and gold. Hanging over her face, the ends perfectly gelled and styled. She wears a dress covered in skulls.
She doesn’t move.
I exhale.
“Good morning Cadence, how can I help you?” I’m being polite because I know that there isn’t a point in being rude.
I’m not a total asshole. Only when I’m in a mood. I feel okay right now. “I need to talk to you,” she barges right past me into my living room, eyeing the arm that I have extended out. She’s totally eye-fucking my muscles. I grin without meaning to and feel insanely proud for like a moment or two. Yeah, I used to work out. Key words being used too. Lately I’ve been too sad and lazy to even move, my body has kept up nicely though.
“So talk. I’m not stopping you.” I cross my arms and turn around, my eyes groping her ass. It is perfectly round and sticking out. The fabric of her dress clinging to her skin, I cringe before adjusting myself. Cadence has her back to me while
inspecting my place and checking behind the couch. I think she’s making sure that no one else is home. She probably doesn’t know that I live alone.
I chuckle.
“I had a dream about you only I wasn’t asleep, and it freaked me out,” she turns around. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m some crazy girl that just wants to sleep with you. You’re a child in my eyes, Mal. A twenty-something child who doesn’t know how to take care of himself. It would be so easy for me to hate you and to be disgusted with you without even knowing you, but I’m not and I don’t and it’s freaking me out. I woke up one day and needed to see you even though I didn’t know you, and now I’m walking around town dreaming about you.”
Cadence’s voice has dropped to a sexy low. Looking at her like this, all upset and freaked out makes me want to growl. I feel like an animal.
“What did you dream about?”
“I don’t know. I just saw you. All of you. Naked and up close and you can’t even try to make me fuck off by saying I’m fantasizing about you because it felt so real. I could feel you.”
I felt her too. I can feel her now when we’re steps apart, and I could feel her when I saw her through that store window. It more than freaked me out.
“That’s cool.” I drag the words out because I don’t know what to do. I want the door closed but I feel like the heat in my body might make all of the windows explode. “So what? Do you want to hang out? I was just about to clean house. You can join me if you want to, but I don’t have any food. I’m all out, and I’m broke. So murdering me and robbing me is also off the table. Just so you know.”
I laugh when Cadence calls me “an asshole,” but she doesn’t run out. This also makes me smile before I frown. I feel like I’m getting in over my head now.
I hate how I find her beautiful and wild. With her hair lighter and cut down, I can see her whole face now. Her full cheeks and lips are puffed out from being chewed. Brown eyes like melted gold. Like the colours of the woods in the fall.
Her chest is pushed out as she breathes in and out. Angry and nervous in all in one go. I get under her skin. I know. I don’t know why though.
“I’ll help you.” Cadence looks down, voice dropping in what must be the sexiest way possible. Her eyes touch my skin, sending chills right down to my bones. Every time she moves closer it’s like a physical stroke.
Fuck. I growl. I’m totally ashamed of myself right now. I feel like an animal. All I want to do is grab Cadence and roll her onto the ground, spreading those curvy legs out.
I swallow. I’ve been staring at Cadence for a good minute-and-a-half now, and she still hasn’t decided to bolt.
I should stop screwing around.
“Well if you want to help out I’m not going to stop you, but you can’t clean in a dress like that unless you don’t plan on bending down,” I let my new friend know with a smile. I close the door behind her and lock the dead bolt before turning back around.
I leave Cadence in my living room. I hope she follows.
What the Fuck Was That? - Mal
Hello universe, me again. Just wondering what on earth I did to deserve this? I’ve got a woman cleaning my house and dusting my fake plants, while I rearrange my television.
Wouldn’t it be easier if she were in my bed? Why couldn’t you just do that? I just want to fuck Cadence and get her over with. I want her out of my head. I want whatever I felt while she was pressed up against my chest to flutter off and pretend to be dead. I can’t take this.
Having her in my arms, I felt something that made me angry and mad and sad and every other emotion one can come up with.
I felt like I’d come home again.
I felt alive, and I felt dead.
I hadn’t felt this much hatred for anyone since I lost my best friend. Hating Ruth had been expected. That’s what all the grief councillors said, I was supposed to hate her for leaving and find a way to forgive her. I was supposed to understand that she did what she did because she saw no other option. She was sick, depressed. Manic.
I miss her like I would miss my head if it rolled off and into the sand. I miss her the way I miss warm clothes right out of the dryer. I ache for warmth, and I ache for her. I miss everything about her. My memories of her aren’t even memories anymore. They feel like a DVD I keep trying to start over. She hasn’t been gone that long, and yet it feels like forever. With Cadence here all I can feel is the anger but still I allowed myself to laugh at her instead of with her. I need to try harder to hurt her.
I look over. Cadence is bent over, I almost growl and have to hide my face in my elbow to stop my smirk.
She looks so damn good in my shirt. The shorts she chose to hug her every curve. They are spandex running pants that I have never worn. Spandex is just not my thing. I don’t need to display my junk for the world.
Is it weird that I want to display my junk to her? Yeah. That is totally fucking weird. I need to stop staring at her. I need to get my act together. I need to stop washing the same part of the wall over and over. I’ve cleaned it at least nine times by now.
“Do you smoke in here Mal? Or did you, I don’t know. Used to? Everything is yellow. When I was little, my grandma smoked four packs a day in the house while she watched TV.” Cadence picks up a half empty chip bowl and turns around, warming me up with her golden eyes. Her soft lips move, forming a small frown. She stops herself from letting me see her small smile.
I see the ghost of it anyhow. It makes her look vulnerable, much younger than she is right now, as if we’re on the same playing field.
“She was mean, but she had a quick mind. She remembered everything; she knew everyone’s names and she memorized birthdays. She died when she was like eighty-nine, but her brain was still like lightning.” She has stopped pruning my fake tree long enough to smile at me.
“Anyway her whole place had to be stripped after she died, she ruined the paint and the flooring. The window coverings, everything, was yellowed with nicotine. It was kind of disgusting but hilarious at the same time. It was like her getting the last word for the last time. She was dead and at peace, and we were all stuck cleaning.”
I watch her face glow at the strange memory.
“My brother Alex liked to clean. He was odd that way. One time in like grade twelve or something, I skipped class and came home early only to find him singing, cleaning and making lemonade.” Cadence turns to face away from me, her words hanging.
“I’m sorry.” I say because it’s better than saying nothing.
“What happened to your brother Caddie?”
“What Happened to Your Brother Caddie?” - Cadence
It was such a simply question that Mal asked me. One that shouldn’t have made my face rush with heat. I shouldn’t have dropped the plant I was just dusting, but I did anyway. It hit the carpet and rolled away, sideways.
I couldn’t say anything.
My mouth felt suddenly flimsy, my chest ached, and I looked around helplessly for someone or something to rescue me. I had ruined everything quite easily.
My life had never been cake. It has always been messy. Our parents fought about the little things constantly. About every little hair out of place. The mismatched cutlery. Everything. Constantly.
Alex and I wanted to escape that day. He was sixteen and so sweet and innocent. Dark hair and clean blue eyes. Charming to anyone who looked his way. He had me wrapped around his pinkie before his first birthday. I had heard about a party; I had begged him to come with me. He said he hated me drinking. I went anyway, and the rest is history.
“My brother died because of me.” I hear myself saying suddenly. Waiting for the second bomb to drop but Mal just looks at me, waiting expectantly and carelessly. I know that deep down, there’s no way that he is interested by anything I say, and yet for some reason, he seems unable to look away. The tension between us is so thick you could cut it and serve it to three, pretending that it was leftover birthday cake. I want to lick the frosting. I want to li
ck Mal. God, I am crazy sounding.
“He died because of me,” I say, explaining what I said already, repeating myself out loud and in my brain. “He’s lifeless right now on a hospital bed, he would be pronounced dead if we unplugged him. He can’t breathe on his own, he has no brain activity. His organs are failing constantly.”
“It’s all because of me. I was a moron. I went out drinking with some buddies, and I had to call my little brother to rescue me, that’s awful, right? He was only sixteen but he called his friend, and he and Torrance headed for me straight away.” My stomach is churning. Dancing and spinning. I feel like I’ve been drinking.
“I was on the couch alone and some guy started undressing me. He said that he got the wrong idea when we were dancing, and that I had to be punished. So like I said, I called Alex and Torrance. At least I kind of remember it like that.” I swallow the memory like my throat is full of venom. My body stiff as that creep pushed his cock against it, his breath felt hot, and I felt sick.
He got me on my back in no time flat.
“I cried for them like six or seven times while it was happening and suddenly they burst right in, two heroes looking for worship even though they were just kids. Alex was good at being scary when he was mad, and he got so furious when he saw what had happened. He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me out my parent’s van. He had borrowed it I guess, more room for drunk me to lay in.”
“I couldn’t stop crying,” I continued “and I remember Torrance looking over at Alex when they jumped into the front, he said, ‘are we just going to let him get away with that?’ And Alex nodded. I was so relieved when I saw this. They were just kids; I should have fought my battles instead of relying on them, but I always did. We didn’t make it home, but I’m sure you’ve already guessed that. I don’t even know exactly where we were when it happened, when some moron crossed the center line, and we crashed straight on into him.”
“Alex was dead. Before I even knew what had happened, Alex was dead, but they tried to revive him and they did for like half a second. They transported him by air ambulance to Calgary, and Torrance was so numb and sick and I just felt lifeless. I woke up in a hospital bed and I knew that my life would never be the same again. I knew that nothing would ever matter again, and I was almost okay with that, because I wanted to be dead. I wanted to trade spots with Alex.” I swallow, avoiding looking directly at him. Mal, his precious is pushing against my chest.
Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) Page 13