When You Come to Me

by Jade Alyse

  “Amazing, yes…beautiful, no…”

  “Beautiful…definitely beautiful…”

  “Well…thank you,” she said. “I always enjoy your compliments…keep them coming…”

  “Well…you deserve them,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I thought you would have known that by now…?”

  She leaned in to kiss him. And in the balmy climate, in the peace of the breeze, she enjoyed his full brown lips.

  “This isn’t so bad, is it?” he whispered into her face.

  “What isn’t?”

  “You and I…this trip…this weather…”

  “Yea, it’s kind of nice…”

  “You can say ‘Thank you, Ant’…”

  “Thank you…” she smiled.

  He kissed her.

  Something about his grasp on her made her feel certain euphoria then, inhaling his nearness, hearing the melodic music from the band play.

  Ten months? Really?

  Her chin found his shoulder blade, her thoughts nonexistent and his large brown hands gripping her tighter. This moment reminded her of why she’d fallen in love.

  “You’re the one, Nat,” he whispered. “I really think you’re the one for me…”

  Her insides froze.

  She continued to sway with him, portraying herself as nonchalant, hoping that she heard the wrong thing, hoping he didn’t say what she thought he said.

  Why did people have such a hard time leaving things the way they were? Why did he have such a hard time with the way things were with them? Would he be prepared if she ran away? Hearing that didn’t necessarily make her want to love him more. Maybe he thought that all girls loved hearing that. Didn’t he know by now that she wasn’t any ordinary girl? She only hoped that he didn’t have to learn the hard way.

  She couldn’t look at him.

  And Natalie Chandler stared straight ahead of her, the band started a new song, and Anthony Jones began to twirl her around wildly, his feet moving miraculously to the beat.

  “My Mama taught me to dance this way,” he bragged to her.

  She only nodded, became numb in his presence, felt the elderly crowd around them slowly stop dancing and encircle them, and she looked out toward the crowd for comfort, saw that all eyes were on them, for whatever reason.

  Natalie’s eyes focused on only a pair, ones she came to recognize more than her own, bluer than the water below them. She attempted to believe it as more than mere coincidence; attempted belief period.

  She was almost sure that Brandon Greene was staring at her from the seated crowd, was sure that the look in his eyes matched the disbelief that encompassed her.

  Warmth filled her body again and Ant twirled her round once more. She attempted to readjust her focus.

  Yes, her eyes were playing trick on her.

  She blinked her eyes feverishly but saw only his eyes again, then his face came into focus, then his startling broad shoulders, clothed in black, then the goddess Sophia, remarkable in a glittering black dress, who, luckily, did not see her.

  She pulled away from Anthony, said only, “I’ll be back,” and headed towards the lower deck in an attempt to get away.

  God, to only get away…

  She went to the lowest level, closest to the water, found a railing, found silence, gripped the railing and took a deep breath. She allowed the shock to cover her, fill her body with unease, and she reminded herself that once upon a time, she was sure that she’d never see him again.

  “Shoot, shoot, shoot!” she forced between clenched teeth in whisper, exhaling deeply, stomping her right foot.

  She figured that if she ever saw him again, she’d march right up to him, tell him off, slap him across the face for abandoning her and be about her way. She’d just as quickly walk away from him as he did her over a year ago. If it was so easy for him, shouldn’t it be the same for her?

  She began to pace as the sky melted away into a bluish-black, her face hidden in shadow, the wind in her hair, the sound of the current below her.

  “Shoot, shoot, shoot…”

  She knew that she sounded crazy, but she was alone and didn’t care. She wanted to erase his image.

  Erase, discard, be done with.

  It was easier. So much easier.

  She started in the other direction when, standing eerily in the falling shadow, Brandon emerged, startling her, causing her to suck in her breath, and backtrack slightly.

  He walked toward her steadily. His eyes never left her face.

  It was then that time stopped, if only for a second, so that she could get readjusted to the curves and the lines of his face, the smell of his proximity, to the idea that part of her still remained with him. It was dream-like, his presence seemed, reminding her of the time where her feelings toward him were clearcut and seemingly everlasting, a time where she couldn’t imagine him going anywhere, a time where she couldn’t imagine loving anyone else as much as she loved him.

  She broke her stillness and began to pace again, in hopes of ignoring him. But she felt the nervousness ride the length of her body.

  The ignoring failed miserably.

  She glanced at him periodically through her pacing: the way he stood there, in all his beauty, never looking more masculine, more sure of himself, more daunting.

  She was just as fearful of his presence as she'd been those years ago...

  And it angered her just enough to where she lunged out in an attempt to slap him across the face. But he quickly intercepted her spontaneous action as though he'd anticipated it, grabbing her arms to restrain her.

  She fought him a little but quickly reminded herself of how strong he was.

  She stopped struggling, and his forehead found hers…

  Natalie fought the urge to cry as he loosened the grip on his arms.

  But it was only a matter of time before he got settled into her, releasing a slow, smooth breath. It was at this point that she was able to break free of his grasp, flatten her palm and slam it into his cheek.

  He took a step back and glared at her, rubbing his cheek soothingly. He then cleared his throat uncomfortably. She internally begged him not to look at her that way, dreadfully awaiting the moment that she'd finally come undone in front of him.

  It was only a matter of seconds before she crumbled into tears. That instant she hated him, hated everything about him, hated the way he made her feel inside, hated that even after a year, he still affected her.

  “Meet me on Pass-a-Grille Beach after midnight…” he whispered.

  He talked to her as if he still understood her, as if time was never a measure between them.

  Ha…

  And he started to walk away. “You must be out of your mind if you think that I’m going to come anywhere near you and that godforsaken beach!”

  He continued walking, disappearing into the darkness as he had come.

  #

  “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little…green…”

  He loved playing doctor even when he wasn’t in the hospital, huh?

  She stood by Anthony in the bathroom, glared into the mirror like a zombie while he, completely unaware of the events on the yacht, simply brushed his teeth at eleven that night, like always, right on time. He only asked if she was okay when he felt that she wasn’t listening to one of his many doctoral anecdotes, of which it seemed he had an endless supply.

  Natalie looked at him, smiled artificially and nodded, “Yes, darlin’, I’m alright…”

  “Glad to hear it,” he told her, spitting out the remainder of toothpaste in his mouth. He reached for her arm, rubbed it a little, pulled her into his body, and gave her a slow embrace, kissing the side of her face.

  “I think we should get up early and watch the sunrise, what do you think about that, Natalie?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “Yes, that sounds nice…”

  He chuckled into her cheek a little, pulled her closer, took a deep breath and said, “I meant what I said earlier
, Natalie…I just want it to be you and me…it doesn’t have to be tomorrow, or the next day…but someday…”

  “Mm-hmm,” was all that she said into his shoulder blade, attempting to sound gleeful.

  She left Anthony lying in bed when the clock struck midnight. Tiptoeing, she reached into her suitcase, retrieved the same white dress she’d worn earlier that night, then frantically attempted to search for the keys to Anthony’s car, as Anthony stirred softly in bed, as the sound of the waves from the open veranda door poured through the room.

  She found the keys in Ant’s jacket pocket, and when she dropped them, she froze, and waited for Anthony to stop stirring. It was then that she questioned if the trip was worth it all, if she could muster up the strength it took to stand up to him and say what she felt.

  If she even knew what she felt at all anymore…

  Natalie soared down the causeway, had a general idea of where she was going, heading in the direction of the south end of the barrier islands, keeping her eyes ardently focused on the road, as if she was confident that some greater force would guide her.

  She drove across a bridge, coming into the coastal part of St. Petersburg, in Ant’s black Lexus, with only the music in the car, the stars, the fleeting streetlights and the black water to keep her company.

  She reached Passe-a-Grille moments later, an island which was only two blocks wide, giving a darkening view of the Gulf on one side and the deep Atlantic on another. She veered off of Gulf Boulevard, finding a narrow road called Tidewater Alley. She pulled off the side of that road, into a bed of baby sea oats, killed the engine.

  It was only then she allowed herself to feel guilty. She waited till it passed before she got out of the car, her hands a shaking mess, her body warm, her thoughts blurred.

  She attempted a deep breath, to clear her mind, and headed in the direction of the beach, praying that being near the water would bring her solace.

  It was there, walking along the shoreline, that she found Brandon. And she walked toward him, walked faster than she’d ever walked in her entire life, became only sensation then, losing her breath in the process.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands found her waist, and he lifted her up, his strength only heightening her desire for him, and she kissed him, hard, long, deep, losing herself momentarily, and a single tear ran the length of her face.

  And then he lowered her onto the grainy sand, she still held onto him, their foreheads grazing, and he whispered against her lips, “Do you love him, Tallie?”

  She sighed, played with his hair a little, taking in its scent, and nodded, “Yes…y—yes, I do, Brandon…”

  She said this to spite him. She watched his face fall.

  Silence followed. She couldn’t imagine that she’d say that to him, and she didn’t know whether it felt good or bad, and she wondered if it hurt him.

  “Do—do you l—love her?”

  She felt him sigh against her face, felt the warm air. “I don’t know,” he told her.

  And they kissed again.

  “You hurt me,” she told him, feeling another tear fall.

  “I know,” he told her. “I’m sorry.”

  “And you’re with her…”

  “I know,” he said. And he kissed the side of her face.

  She pulled away from him, he saw the tears in her eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away. She slapped his hand down, and wiped them away herself.

  She didn’t need him…never really needed him for anything…

  “That’s all you can say, Brandon? ‘You know’? ‘You’re sorry’?”

  He stared at her.

  “Do you think that seeing you with her is easy? Do you think that you can just say sorry and expect it to all go away? It made me sick, Brandon…it really did…”

  “Well, how do you think I felt, Tallie? How the fuck do you think I felt when I saw that guy with his hands all over you? Kissing on you like you’re some piece of meat? Do you think that seeing you with him made me feel any better?”

  “What makes you think that I’m at all concerned with your feelings, Brandon? What makes you think that I give a rat’s behind about you and your feelings? How do you think I felt, Brandon? Did you ever consider my feelings? You walked out of my life without so much as a phone call? Do you think that that made me feel better? You know what? You make me sick...you make me sick! Go! Go have fun with her…leave me be! Leave me with my life and I’ll leave you with hers…I think that’s what you wanted all along, huh? Her…”

  She backed away slowly, eyes locked to his, waiting for the moment when he’d begin to follow her.

  But he called after her quietly, extending his hand, his deep voice barely above the sound of the waves. Natalie only continued to back away, hoping that her heart was still intact, hoping that the warmth on her lips would go away, hoping for enough strength to get into that car and drive away.

  Inside, she shook as she climbed into the driver’s seat and wiped the tears from her cheek. She took another glance toward the moon-smeared shoreline, saw his shadowed silhouette against the starry, black canvas and sighed. She convinced herself that this was the right thing to do.

  And as she started the engine, her insides warmed to the small triumph.

  The Breeze in Passe-a-Grille

  HE COULD EASILY REMEMBER when he fell in love with Natalie. She was only a sophomore at the time, with a perfect little bottom, legs for days, and the kind of smile that made him forget his name, or anything else that happened before she walked into his life. She wore her hair in those high ponytails, had this indescribably sweet southern drawl that reached high levels of cuteness whenever she yelled at him for belching in her face without excusing himself or whenever he played too rough during their constant wrestling. She’d steal his favorite Bulldogs pullover at least once a week, and he loved the way it hung off of her body.

  He’d just broken up with Sophia for the first time that year, and Natalie was at his house more often than he went to class each week, reading her Organics Lab book, the wisps of her delicate black hair, falling into her face, sitting on his grandmother’s worn sofa in his living room. She’d piddle and paddle back and forth from the sofa to the kitchen, barefoot, the pullover hiding her bottom, picking pieces off of the cake that she’d just baked for him and Scotty to eat. The boys never minded her being there. Him, especially, who knew that he loved her each time that she touched him, or rested her head on his shoulder, or made him laugh with her awkward facial expressions.

  He loved her to the point that it made him ache, to the point that he thought less about his mistakes with Sophia and more about how the sun hit Natalie’s face in such a way that her brown skin glowed. He wanted her so badly that he lost sleep, and counted the moments until he could see her again. But when he was around her, he pretended to be as carefree as possible, hoping that his heart didn’t cave in each time that she gave him that doe-eyed smirk.

  It all made sense now, didn’t it? The way Natalie stood there before him on the beach, her dark eyes watching him closely, as if to study him, as if she didn’t know every piece of him already, as if she didn’t know why he’d disappeared for so long, as if she couldn’t feel that he still loved her, even now, when he lay next to Sophia, his first in many ways.

  He had come to the realization some time ago that he didn’t make much sense without her, and he knew it each time that he past a marker that reminded him of her; something inexplicably beautiful that he didn’t notice before, that he only noticed when he was around her.

  He lost something inside of him when he left her. How funny he was to think that the missing pieces of him were with Sophia, the person he once devoted his world to, the epitome of what he thought love was, and how he was supposed to feel.

  After he left Natalie, he remained in Georgia, becoming a nomad on the road. Everything he once valued in his life was caving in on him. And he couldn’t breathe.

  He strangely left everything behind: his
classes, his job, his friends, Natalie. It seemed that nothing really made sense to him anymore, even Natalie, the one person he genuinely treasured more than anything else that this life could offer him.

  He left her because he felt she didn’t love him. Was that not the craziest thing he could ever feel? He’d sense that, when he looked into her eyes, he saw nothing, and was reminded of the same sensation the night of their one-year anniversary. How his stomach turned when sensed that she didn’t want a forever with him, despite the fact that he couldn’t even fathom enduring a life without her, landing on a point where all his thoughts, and all his feelings revolved around her, protecting her, being with her, laughing with her. He was sure that those feelings evoked in the presence of Natalie made his time with Sophia seem trite, jaded and completely obsolete.

  Yes, loving Tallie was different. Loving her harvested nerves that had never been stepped on before. He was a man wildly in love, falling further, fast, deep and hard, on the cusp of one of the biggest transitions in his early adult life.

  He’d gone away to clear his head, find a straight path of thought, find solace. And then Scotty called one night, saying that she’d come to the house on Trent road.

  “She was crying,” Scotty had informed him, sounding rather pitiful. “I’ve never seen her cry that hard.”

  He didn’t respond – the idea of him doing that to her made his stomach ache a little.

  “She was worried about you,” Scotty continued. “She thought that something may have happened to you, but she didn’t know what. She didn’t know what to do with herself. There was no way that any of us could reach you. You need to call her, Brandon. You need to call her and straighten all of this out with her. It’s Natalie, man. She doesn’t deserve this. If you still love her, you’d call.”

  A wave of guilt fell over Brandon’s senses. He had no choice but to agree with Scotty – Natalie definitely didn’t deserve this type of treatment, especially from him. But what would happened when he picked up that phone, dialed her number and heard her voice on the other end? Would he lose his inner sanity at the sound of it? He didn’t think she’d receive him as well as she’d done before – there was simply too much damage circling between them for him to plainly explain his actions to her in a reasonable manner and have her be the same understanding and nurturing Natalie that’d she’d been before. If anything, Scotty had always been that one unswerving friend, the one that knew and understood everything about him and his bullshit when he was sure that no one else did. Scotty should have known where he’d been hiding and why he had to leave.