iFeel

by Marissa Carmel

  I lean over the kitchen counter and watch as my mother puts on the finishing touches to the tree. She feels so happy and warm with holiday spirit; Christmas is her favorite time of year. It was once mine as well, but now every thought I have, every happy feeling I try to conjure is laced with him. It feels like I am imprisoned in my own being. There’s no hiding in my closest away from the emptiness; it follows me everywhere, as if it is lined within me.

  My brother abruptly drops a basket of fresh laundry on the countertop next to me; the smell of the fabric softener nearly causes me to combust into tears.

  “What’s your problem?” He asks with a confused look. I wouldn’t peg Jeremy as one of the most compassionate people I know, but he can see I’m upset.

  I look at him with watery eyes, “nothing; you just use way too much fabric softener.” I snivel, before I pull myself together. I quickly wipe away the one renegade tear that escapes down my face, and then give my attention back to my family.

  I don’t have to look at Jeremy to know what he was thinking, she’s certifiable. But that thought is nothing new.

  No one knows about Justice or how he feels like a severed vein I can’t close. And there is no way I’m going to divulge any of that information. I would rather have my family believe I was crazy then to tell them I fell in love. That is my cross to bear, and mine alone. My mother worries about me enough as it is with all the challenges I face, she doesn’t need the burden of nursing a broken heart as well. I’ve always been more comfortable suffering in silence. It was quieter that way.

  But every night I dream of him. The same dream over and over like a broken record in my mind; me, in my apartment, at my ballet bar, a ray of sunlight cascading through the windows picking up small flecks of particles floating all around me. I’m dressed in a light pink leotard and a sheer wrap skirt. My hair is pulled up in a tight bun, and white toe shoes are laced up my legs. Justice stands in the corner heedfully watching me through the mirror. Slow piano notes play in the background. He walks up behind me and takes one of my hands. He spins me slowly in a pirouette, like I was his own private dancer inside a music box. His eyes intensely fixated on my body. They burn blue in the sunlight. After one turn, he stops me, and then leans my body outright against the bar. My mind is imprisoned by the hold of his stare. He slides one hand up my torso, almost at the same tempo as the music. He looks so pained as he touches me. Like the want of my body tortures him. He cradles my head towards his face. I can feel every emotion he stirs inside me, like it was real. And then, as abruptly as the dream starts, it ends. Every night, like a broken record in my mind.

  The beep of Nikkee’s horn pulls me away from the sad, but sweet reverie.

  I guzzle the rest of my wine, making sure no drop was left behind. I throw on my coat and kiss my mother good-bye.

  “I’m glad Nikkee is driving,” she says clueing to the way I threw back my spirit.

  I roll my eyes, “it was only one glass.”

  “The night is just beginning,” she says with a stern look.

  “I’m fine.”

  She hugs me tightly, tighter than usual. “Honey,” she says in a soft voice, “I love you.”

  I look at her with a blank face. “I know you do Mom.” I can feel her intense worry; I guess my brother wasn’t the only one who noticed my little display.

  “Try to have a good time, you deserve it.” She rubs my arms lightly. Her dark brown bangs are tangled in her troubled blue eyes.

  “I will,” I halfheartedly promise.

  I sit across from Nikkee wondering just how much emotion I am wearing on my sleeve. And why she insisted on sitting at a table with four settings when there is only the two of us. My mother must have seen more despair on my face than I thought I was letting on.

  “Oh! Liv,” Nikkee says over the large brown menu she’s scanning. “I can’t stay long on Christmas Eve this year.”

  “Why not?” I look at her a little hurt and confused. Nikkee always spends Christmas Eve with me and my family.

  “Don’t get mad, it’s just, Davis’ mom invited me over to and I don’t want to be rude,” she eyes me over the menu.

  “Davis.” I huff. Nikkee’s new best friend and my replacement. I hide my face behind the Wok ‘n’ Roll menu, so she can’t see my irritation.

  “Liv! Please don’t be mad!” She pushes the menu out of the way. “I really like him, a lot.”

  “Nik, I’m the last person you have to tell that to,” I remind her sourly.

  “I know that’s why I thought you would understand the most.” She says with troubled eyes.

  “Ughhhh, I do; it’s just,” I hesitate; the pain in my heart pierces a little deeper, as if I thought that were even possible, “it’s not going to be the same without you.”

  No one understands the forcefulness of love better than me. Even before my unfortunate love mishap, I knew the power it held. It was one of the main reasons I stayed away from it. And yet here I am, struggling with the short happiness I allowed myself to have and the consequences that accompanied it. That’s what I get for ignoring the caution signs.

  Nikkee’s stomach suddenly drops like she is on a parachute ride.

  “What?” I ask alarmed.

  She gives me an apprehensive look, “Liv, don’t be mad ok,” she says as she gets up from the table, her eyes fixated on something behind me. That seems to be her catchphrase tonight.

  I turn to see what she’s looking at. Walking towards are two strikingly different boys, one with dark hair and deep brown eyes- Davis- the other, a Paul Walker look-alike who is more Into the Blue than The Fast and the Furious, with curly blonde hair and smoky hazel eyes.

  Nikkee excitedly kisses Davis hello and then introduces me to his friend. His Friend. The friend she was telling me about, the one she has been harassing me about. The friend I steadfastly objected to meeting. Anger instantly shoots up inside me. How dare she! How dare she go behind my back and set up a blind date knowing full well I have no interest in being set up! I can’t stand I’m so floored; I vacantly say hello then draw my furious attention back to Nikkee. I stare at her with heated eyes. If I were a Seraph, they’d erupt into a purple blaze.

  I tell myself to calm down even though I feel deliberately betrayed.

  I can feel the nervous butterflies in Nikkee’s stomach. She knows I’m pissed. I don’t want this! Why does she feel it necessary to torture me?

  I take a few inconspicuous deep breaths. They help, a bit. But I can’t bring myself to look over at the curly haired blonde sitting next to me. So I just stare Nikkee down in fury.

  I’m silent through most of dinner; I just gnaw on my edemame as the three of them chat over rolls. It’s uncomfortable; there’s no denying it, mainly because of me. My stale mood drapes the table. Both Nikkee and Davis try to engage me in some kind of conversation, but my one-word answers hinder any spark. I have no desire to speak. I just want to go home and get as far away from Nikkee, and this table, as possible. She’s infuriating. I’ve come to the conclusion that being with Davis has thrown a wrench in her well-functioning brain activity.

  Then something suddenly dawns on me; my rage quickly turns into dejection. I know this is how Justice must feel about me. Mad and hurt, and wanting to stay as far away from me as possible. I bite into my Spicy Dragon roll disgusted. I’m no better than Nikkee, in fact; I’m worse. She at least has good intentions; I’m just plain mean. I am one seriously horrible person I think as I sink deeper into a depression.

  “Can I try one of your rolls?” Two chopsticks hover over my plate from the right side. I look up into a pair of sweet hazel eyes. “I love spicy food, but I‘ve always been a bit apprehensive about spicy mayo, chili paste and wasabi all in one roll,” he says with a smile. I hesitate for a moment, but not because I don’t want to share, his curiosity feels like it has come from left field.

  “Ah, sure, of course,” I push my rectangular plate towards him. “Better have some water ready just in case.” I warn
.

  We all watch as Kerri pops the roll, I know it burns his throat more than he is letting on. He balls his fist in front his mouth and coughs from the sting. His eyes begin to water as he gasps for some air. He grabs the glass of water in front of him and guzzles it down.

  We all stare.

  “Is he ok?” Nikkee is worried.

  “I think he’ll be fine,” I tell her as I give him my water. He finishes my glass almost as quickly as his. I can’t help but be amused. In fact, I can’t help but laugh out loud; Spicy Dragon rolls came with a release that’s how hot they are.

  Before long, the whole table is laughing, including Kerri. He looks at me with excited eyes, “that was nuts! I’ve never tasted anything so hot! How can you eat those without breathing fire?”

  “The hotter the better, what can I say.”

  “Can I have another one?” He laughs.

  “Sure,” I smirk, “but not before we order you a pitcher of water.”

  Before I know it, my dark interior has lightened a bit, and I’m actually enjoying my present company. Something has managed to penetrate the black hole.

  Davis and Kerri ramble on about the documentary they’re working on with high hopes a cable network will eventually pick it up. The project is what brought Kerri to the East Coast.

  He is one of those guys, the kind romance novelists write about. He has a sweet smile with a soul to match, and the more we speak the more interested in him I become. His pleasant heart lures me in. He’s comfortable, easy. The conversation never feels forced, and I find myself laughing more than I expect.

  Our small Japanese waitress hands us the check and motions to the clock. It’s 10:30, the four of us have been occupying the table for almost five hours. The boys pick up the tab. How very chivalrous, and expensive, we had three bottles of wine.

  I am almost sad to see the night end as we stand in the middle of Point Village. I’m saying goodnight when I suddenly feel butterflies resurrect in Nikkee’s stomach. This can’t be good.

  “You know Kerri; Liv lives in Red River; it’s on the way to Middleton. Would you mind giving her a lift? That way, I can take Davis home, and it’s not out of the way for everyone?”

  I shoot daggers out of my eyes. Has she gone mad? She’s trying to pawn me off on some guy I just met? I could kill her tonight!

  I look at Kerri tentatively; my face turns three shades of red, he would like nothing more than to be alone with me.

  Holy hell.

  “Sure.” He answers cool and collected, flashing me a quick smile.

  “Great!” She gives me a quick kiss good-bye then flees the scene.

  In a flash, Nikkee and Davis disappear into the night, leaving me, alone, with Kerri. I smile at him awkwardly. Just you and me now I think, as we stand there quietly.

  “My car is this way,” he thumbs. We walk through the cold night air that is fragrant with fresh pine from the overabundance of Christmas trees. The flood of white twinkle lights casts a wintry glow all around us.

  Kerri unlocks the doors to a vintage BMW and when I open the passenger’s side, I get a surprise. It makes a grinding noise like it hasn’t been oiled since its conception.

  “Whoa,” I look at Kerri, and he winces.

  “It’s my little brother’s car.”

  “He should take better care of a classic.” I comment.

  “He’s seventeen, the only classic thing he knows is Coke.” He says as we get into the car.

  I chuckle and can’t help but appreciate Kerri’s sense of humor.

  “Your friend is pretty slick,” Kerri remarks as we drive down Ocean Avenue towards Clearwater Memorial Bridge.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, not wanting to talk about Nikkee in the least bit, all I can think about is how I am going to rage on her tomorrow.

  “Because she concocted this whole scheme, right down to who drove who home.” He divulges.

  “That’s Nikkee, always scheming.” I try to conceal the burning fury that is creeping up into my throat.

  “I had a good time though, it’s been a while since I’ve had a night out.” He smiles. “All I do is work, people get the wrong impression ya know; they think I am anti-social.”

  “I can empathize.” I tell him, if he threw in the word introvert, he would be describing me.

  I try to turn on the radio as the emotional currents in the car suddenly spike, but nothing happens when I push the dial.

  “It doesn’t work; my brother won’t pay BMW for the code, so he drives around listening to his iPod.”

  “Safe.” I say wryly, secretly wishing for a distraction.

  “Are you ok?” Kerri asks half way over the bridge, my arms are wrapped defensively around my body and my foot is shaking uncontrollably.

  “Fine,” I lie, “just a little cold.”

  He reaches to turn on the heat, but nothing comes out of the vents. He looks at me with clueless eyes, “I guess the heat doesn’t work either.”

  “Your brother should get a refund on this car.”

  “What happened to it being a classic?”

  “I was wrong; it’s only a classic if it’s preserved in glass.”

  We drive down Center Street towards my apartment when Kerri’s eyes light up. “You have a Lighting’s!” Referring to the local ice cream chain that is Zagat rated. Small take out windows are sprinkled all over the shore line. “I haven’t had one of their chocolate swirls in years!” I can feel his stomach start to crave some sugary goodness. “Do you want ice cream?” He asks with a childlike gleam.

  “Now? It’s like twelve degrees out.”

  “So what? If you can eat food spicier than a jalapeño on steroids, I can eat ice cream in subzero degree weather.”

  Point taken.

  “Ok.” I say, “I only live right up the street; we can walk.”

  We park in front of my apartment. Now that it’s the low season, and all the Benny’s- that local lingo for tourist- have gone home, parking is a pleasure. No more circling the block three times just to get a relatively close spot to the building you live in.

  We walk down Center Street towards Lightings. “It’s been like thirteen years since I’ve had really good soft ice cream. I used to dream about it after I moved to California,” Kerri reminisces.

  “So you used to live in Jersey?” I observe.

  “Ya, until I was ten. After my parents got divorced my mom moved back to be with her family, and she took me with her.”

  I was listening to Kerri so intently I didn’t realize how close we were standing until I accidentally placed my hand over his on the ledge of the ordering window. His insides pulsate from my touch as he looks down at me with a soft affirming smile; I quickly pull away.

  “Sorry” I say timorously.

  “It’s fine,” he tells me in his sweet surfer vernacular.

  The collar of my puffy jacket suddenly feels tight, like it is trying to choke me. The words on the menu look scrambled as my heart pounds in my ears. I don’t want to let myself feel anything for him, or feel anything he is feeling for me. Not like that is an option or anything. The constant pain in my soul reminds me of what happens when I let someone in. It’s only utter disaster.

  I’m grateful we’re outside; the cold air helps sober my thoughts.

  “Do you want anything?” Kerri asks holding his ice cream cone like a giddy child.

  “No thanks.” The thought of food turns my stomach. “It’s a little too cold for me.” I lie.

  “Ok, you can have a bite of mine if you want, I owe you,” he says as we start walking back towards my apartment.

  “So you haven’t been back to Jersey since?” I ask trying to pick up where we left off, and ignore the pulsating energy all around us.

  “I have, only three times. Two were for funerals. Kind of depressing. That’s why I jumped when Davis asked me to partner him on this project, it gave me a chance to work and reconnect with my dad.”

  “That sounds like a good deal.”r />
  “The best one for me. It’s funny, the summer I left I was so angry. I hated my parents; I thought it was my fault they were splitting up, and I didn’t understand why all these bad things were happening. So I took it out on some poor loner girl on the beach.”

  “And you think that’s funny?” I ask dismayed. I remember how I was tortured as a child. It was horrific.

  “God no, if I could meet that girl today I would profusely apologize. But her friend, I’ll never forget it, the way she defended her; it was like righteousness coursed right through her little blonde ringlets.”

  This story is starting to sound strangely familiar.

  “And that’s the funny part?” I dig.

  “No, it’s what she said to me. She called me,” he chuckles, “she called me a big dummy and threw wet sand in my face. It still makes me laugh to this day.”

  My jaw drops like it’s tied to an anchor as my eyes blow up with shock.

  “What?” Kerri asks.

  “But you had dark hair.” I utter.

  “What?”

  “That was me.”

  “You threw the sand at me?” He asks divertly.

  “No, Nikkee threw the sand; I was the one you picked on.”

  We both stand there stunned from the accidental discovery. The only thing that moves is the drippy ice cream.

  “I’m so sorry.” Kerri finally breaks. “I was upset… I had no right… I’m so sorry,” he fumbles his words, but I’m not mad. It was a long time ago, and in retrospect, he was the one who brought me and Nikkee together, so for that I am grateful. Besides, knowing the wonderful, sweet man he’s become would’ve dissolved any grudge immediately, if there was one.

  I know it isn’t the ice cream making me crave sugar; Kerri is just that appealing.

  “It’s ok,” I assure him. “At least now when you tell that story, you can say fate gave you a second chance to apologize to the antagonized girl.”