Skin Like Dawn (When You Come to Me)

by Alyse, Jade

  “A girl. What would we name it if we had a girl?”

  “Well...Martha’s out.”

  “What? You don’t like the name Martha for our baby girl?” He was grinning.

  She pursed her lips. “Your mother and I are just now getting to the point where we have an understanding of sorts. Naming our daughter after her would show too much zeal, yes?”

  He nodded, chuckling. “I’ve thought of some names.”

  “Have you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well...?”

  “Well...I like Ava. It means “life”. Which, you know, we’re giving her. And she’ll inevitably give us.”

  “Hmm.” Natalie was imagining some little ochre-skinned, curly-headed something running around the house. She dreamed of her having Brandon’s big, hooded, Caribbean blue eyes and his raven-black hair. She’d be a daddy’s girl for sure.

  “Or Leila. I’ve always been a fan of Leila. Leila Greene. Or Gabriella. Gabby Greene. Sounds like something from a Judy Blume book. What do you think, Tallie? How does that sound, baby?”

  “A trip.”

  He dropped the screwdriver on the carpet, turning to her. “A what?”

  She looked at him squarely. “A trip.”

  “I heard that part. What are you getting at?”

  “I want to go somewhere.”

  “Natalie, you’re seven months pregnant. The doctor said...”

  “I don’t give a damn what the doctor said. I feel fine. No backaches, no nausea, no anything.”

  “But...”

  “I want to go away with you, Brandon. I want to be somewhere and be totally alone with you.”

  “We’re totally alone now. And I’m in the middle of a huge project for a huge client.”

  “You have a team of people who can cover you for a couple of days. Penelope seemed more than willing.”

  “I can’t just call out of work today, Natalie.”

  “Tomorrow’s Friday. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “And where the hell are we going, baby?” His disposition was halfway between amused and exasperation. It was a heady amalgam, and one she found pleasure in witnessing.

  “Santa Cruz.”

  “As in California?” His eyes grew incredulously large. He even lunged toward her as though to grab her and shake some sense into her. She was grinning innocently.

  “Yes.” “That’s at least a seven-hour drive.”

  “Ten, actually. Which shouldn’t be too much of a feat for someone who likes to drive all the time.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t use that against me.”

  “I’m just stating the facts, my baby. You like to drive. You like the beach. You’ve always wanted to visit northern California. We could get a nice hotel room, make love on the sand at midnight. Think of it as...as a second honeymoon. Before little Ava or Leila or Gabby gets here.”

  “You’re putting our future child into this, Tallie?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  He sighed heavily, shoving his head into his jacket pocket, staring down at her pensively.

  “Did I forget to mention how handsome you look this morning, my love?”

  “Save it. We’re going. You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “For once. We should get away before we become...parents. As soon as I get off tonight we’ll look at some pricey hotels, spa packages, obnoxiously pretentious and romantic restaurants. All of that. Then we’ll pack. Then we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  She propelled herself toward him, hooked her arms around his neck and pressed her lips into his. She repeated “I love you” against them, in sort of a rhythmic way, and he hummed through a laugh as he kissed her back. A throng of excitement befuddled her, as just a few hours prior, her heart had stopped at the sight of Bellamy Lambert in her proximity. She quickly shuffled the thought out of her head. The image was far too frightening.

  IT WAS NO SHOCK TO HER THAT WOMEN FOUND BRANDON GREENE ATTRACTIVE. SHE WAS NO FOOL. Still, the ogling eyes of young women, some much prettier and thinner than her, did nothing to quell the sting she felt each time. Even as dressed down as he was, pumping gas into his truck a couple of days later, wearing nothing more than a pair of basketball shorts and a UGA t-shirt, his presence demanded attention. Maybe it was his startling height or the color of his hair, or his arrogant, Upper State New York posture that drew their eyes toward him. Never the less, her husband stood with a brutish grace, that even she could not ignore.

  It was their third stop since leaving Portland that morning. Three hours in, she’d just awoken from a lengthy nap, in which Brandon remarked on how loudly she’d snored.

  “You’re a fucking liar.”

  “Language, baby. Language.”

  She was grouchy, of course; having been woken up somewhere around six that morning, with no hope of drinking caffeine, or rousing herself enough to gather their things and load them into the car. Brandon took it upon himself to carry her down the length of the stairs and put her into the front seat of his truck, with little effort. She didn’t have the energy to question where all of the extra strength came from.

  Now, she was sitting in the front seat, watching Brandon scratch at his belly and yawn, and she felt herself grow anxious. She wanted to get there. She wanted to be alone with her husband. She needed to be reminded of her role as his wife and the future mother of his child. They were forever entwined - no doubts about that. Her thoughts and her heart needn’t scurry any longer.

  Soon, they were back on the road. Brandon snaked his hand across the dash to grab hers. She squeezed it affectionately in return and smiled.

  “What do you want to do when we get there?” he asked her. They’d just reached the tip of California. The terrain had changed. Only slightly, however. But she gazed out of the window anyway, catching a glint of mid-morning sunlight on her cheek.

  Then she smiled. “Have lots of sex.”

  Throwing his head back, he laughed haughtily. “In all seriousness?”

  She nodded, turning to face him with an impish smile. “Of course. Didn’t you fall in love with me for my earnestness?”

  “Among other things. So when we get tired of that...then what?”

  “You’re already planning on getting tired of having sex with your wife?”

  “Tallie, please. I’ll be eighty, with a half-cocked, sagging number, and I’ll still never grow tired...”

  “Wow. That’s an image that’ll be hard to erase for some time.”

  “You get the point.”

  “We’ll nap. Then we’ll go exploring. You know, what we do best.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  AND FOR THE FIRST FEW HOURS, IT WAS. Checking into a hotel by the sea, they stood on the balcony for an hour or so, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Every so often, he’d lean down and kiss the curve in her neck, inhale, squeeze her tighter and whisper something against the surface of her ear. She’d gaze skyward, watch the clouds move slowly, felt the breeze on her skin, smiled. For just a moment, everything was right.

  She imagined it always being just like this: she and her Brandon Greene in perfect sync with one another, breathing in each other’s air, laughing to the point of aching in their belly. She even prayed for it. Selfishly, she believed that she could have it all: the adoring, unwavering love from her husband, the happy family, and whatever else had taken stock of her heart. She didn’t dare verbalize it. It would be too much to deal with right now.

  She and her Brandon were walking along the shore just before sunset. He held her hand earnestly, strolling effortlessly. She realized then, almost darkly, that it would never be like this again: just the two of them, celebrating each other.

  Flapping out a towel they’d brought with them, they took a seat on the rippled flaxen sand, and she wrapped her arm around him.

  “You scared me a couple of days ago,” he began.

  She knew that he was referring to all o
f her crying bouts the past couple of days, apologizing in desperation for her foolishness, but never really articulating why. She knew why, of course. But she’d never be able to tell him. He’d never understand. She’d only watch him walk away again. And this time, she was sure he’d never come back.

  But that would be the smartest decision he’d ever make.

  She should have warned him a long time ago about running after a girl like her. The level of fucked-up things she’d had to deal with over the years surmounted his love every time. She neither possessed the energy nor the desire to want to correct it right now. Not even for him.

  “I know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. This baby is taking the life out of me. Sometimes, I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  “We don’t have too much longer.” The wind carried his length black hair out of his face. “We’re going to be parents soon, Tal. How crazy is that?”

  “I’m ready, I think. For the challenge, at least. I have to be better than both of my parents combined.”

  “That won’t be hard.”

  “I just want to be good for him or her, you know?” She allowed him to kiss her temple. “Give her the chance that I never had...emotionally...or otherwise...”

  “You will. We’ll do it together. You’re married, remember?”

  Maybe she forgot once and neglected to tell him...when certain somebodies entered into the picture, making their presence known, enrapturing her unwillingly. She gazed out to the Pacific and saw him there, maybe once or twice, and her heart thumped a bit at the thought of it, making it momentarily difficult to be near her husband.

  Damn it.

  “Yes, I remember.” She smiled and kissed the side of the face. “You remind me of my decision everyday. In a good way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t always show it the way I should, but I’m glad you’re here. You’re always here.”

  AND HE WAS SITTING WITHIN PLAIN VIEW OF HER AT AN OCEANFRONT RESTAURANT, on the third floor. She’d gone to the bar to order her husband another beer. The waiter was taking too long and she grew antsy. The baby, she figured. Nowadays, she couldn’t sit still to save her life. He appeased her because he knew that there was no arguing with her about it.

  She kissed him on the forehead a couple of times, and he watched her walk away from him. Just like that. And she now stood at the bar, holding her dress by the hem so it didn’t get dirty on the floor. It was one of his favorites that she owned; it only felt right for her to wear it that night. She’d just gotten the waiter’s attention when a young man of no older than thirty walked up to the left side of her. She’d been caught off guard. He was svelte, dark hair slicked back, scruff around his jaw and an open face. And he had an accent. European, maybe. British Isles, or something like it. Or it could’ve been all a facade that she’d invented in her head.

  He smiled. His teeth were just as crooked as his grin. But it seemed endearing. Genuine, maybe.

  She curved an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head bashfully. “I was dared to come over and say something barbaric and almost repulsive to you.”

  “And what were you going to get in return?”

  “Five bucks.”

  “That’s all I’m worth?”

  “My friends have been watching you all night. You’re beautiful.”

  She raised her left hand at him. She was sure that her wedding band glistened in the flicker of candlelight around them. “Well...they can keep on watching.”

  “Ouch.” He held a hand to his chest. “And here I was thinking that I may have a chance.”

  She shook her head and feigned a smile. Somewhere deep down, she knew that he would’ve never stood a chance - not with the present circumstances, at least. Her heart belonged...elsewhere. Divvied up, maybe. Amongst two. Goddamnit, why was it so hard to admit?

  She parted her lips to say something, but a hand grabbed at her arm. “Let’s go. Now.”

  Brandon’s low voice, desperately grasping for steadiness sent a cool shiver down her spine. She gazed up at him, baffled. “What’s the matter?”

  He was tugging her out of the restaurant, his grip on her arm tightening. She was losing her ability to breathe. “Let’s go, Natalie.”

  “Let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

  He led her out of the restaurant and into an elevator. Snatching out of his grasp, she lunged into an open one and backed into the nearest wall, glaring at him as he cooly adjusted the black blazer about his shoulders. “What the hell is the matter with you? That was embarrassing!”

  Without notice, he tumbled toward her, pressing her back into the cool elevator wall. His lips attacked hers violently, stabbing at her mouth with his tongue, groaning with aggression, thrusting his pelvis into her body brutishly.

  She shoved him off, sloppily wiping at her mouth. She fought the urge to cry.

  “Did you feel that?” He asked her, panting. “Did you feel anything?”

  Chest heaving, she limped against the wall, weakened. “I’m so sick of this.”

  “You’re mine.” He said. “All mine.”

  And suddenly, he wasn’t himself anymore. The glint in his eye had disappeared. She didn’t recognize anything on his face, then.

  “You’re right.” She was nodding, pointedly. “I am. More than you’ll ever realize, you son of a bitch.” Her voice cracked. He inched toward her. She held up her hands in protest. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  The elevator doors opened on the lobby floor. She sauntered off without him. With purpose. She could hear long, steady, ardent footsteps behind her. She needed to get away, but she didn’t know where.

  What made sense anymore? Who was right? Who was wrong? What did knowing feel like?

  She got out to a sidewalk, waterside. People appeared happy as she walked past them. Brandon called her name sharply, discreetly. In only a few seconds, he’d catch up with her, like he always did, beg for forgiveness, stomp his feet like an insolent child, then find his way back to her again. The thought of the impending course of actions made her sick. She took a deep breath.

  The sky was almost completely black now, the sound of the waves nearby. She thought of how perfect this trip could’ve been if they hadn’t brought everything with them.

  Had they ever been capable of leaving everything behind?

  She got to the sand and kicked off her shoes angrily as the tears started the flow. She walked just before the water and stopped, holding herself.

  She sensed him standing behind her and she turned around. He looked pitiful, ashamed. She didn’t care. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t...this isn’t...”

  “Say it, baby.”

  “You’re so...you’re so...”

  “Fucking say it!”

  “You’re so suffocating. I can’t breathe anymore. I can’t! We don’t make sense anymore. We just don’t. Something isn’t working. Can’t you feel it?”

  “What happened to the woman I married? What happened to her?”

  She crumbled into tears, knees buckling. “She’s the woman you never should have married. But you did anyway. And now you’re stuck with this. Stuck with me.”

  “Where is this even coming from? What’s changed? Who are you?”

  She couldn’t tell him. Too revelatory, right? All truths to the light didn’t seem to settle very well with her right now.

  She watched him began to walk away, and some sort of panic set in. But she couldn’t understand the sensation. It was an aching or a loss of some sort; an emptiness, exacerbated by years of what they’d built together. He wasn’t the stranger that she’d made him out to be; but a piece of her, rather. A big piece. The part that made her feel like herself.

  He picked up his speed. She knew that the end tarried there with them. The end. More tears erupted, clouding her vision, and she couldn’t
speak. She parted her lips to call out his name but nothing...nothing.

  The end, she figured. They’d both had enough.

  She lunged out at him, gasping for air. This was it. The end.

  She grabbed at her Brandon Greene, whimpering, and he flung his arm back, jostling her away with just enough force, that she fell on her belly with the entire weight of her body bearing down on it.

  Struck with immediate remorse, he attempted to swivel around and catch her, but he was too late.

  Too late.

  FLIGHT

  AT FIRST, IT FELT LIKE A TINGLING. Then, a little aching in her stomach. Then, emptiness. A giant hole right through her, rather. And silence. Unbending silence. She could hear echoes in her head, haloing voices, and buzzing sounds. She was back in the water, again, no older than ten, wading gracefully, gazing skyward and smiling. She focused on that for awhile. It seemed easier.

  But someone was yelling her name, begging her to come to. She refused to do it. She refused to give in.

  Then, she saw her papa in her head. He was smiling at her, hand extended toward hers, inviting her up with him, in the light somewhere. She’d be safe, he said. He’d look after her. The way he’d always looked after her.

  Someone yelled at her again. She felt dizzy. Then, the pain came again. A little less dull this time. Sharper. More acute. She screamed. It felt good to scream. She felt alive when she let it all go.

  “Tallie! Wake up, baby. I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

  Once upon a time, she’d fallen in love with a voice very similar to that one. It melted in her ears. Made her feel like she belonged to it. She’d fallen victim to it more than she like to admit. Goddamnit.

  “Tallie!”

  “Mr. Greene, you’re going to have to let us do our job. She’ll be fine.”

  Natalie’s eyes whittled open. She caught a glimpse of her husband’s face, then closed her eyes again.

  “Tallie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, baby!”

  Baby. Where’s the baby? Harper. Harper, is the baby’s name. Harper Marie Greene.

  Then, everything went dark again.