Starting Fires

by Makenzie Smith

  Thursday evening I contemplated going back to Louisiana. It was incredibly boring in this house. The gardener was the only person I had contact with and it was only for about ten minutes. I wanted to leave. And I would have, had I not gotten a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.

  It was a picture of Candace and Lucas at the lake. They were out on a boat. He was leaned against the side, and she stood next to him. Another person was also in it, but had been cropped out. His smile was real and genuine, as was hers.

  Who is this? I immediately sent.

  Just wanted you to see how much fun we had at the lake was the response.

  Candace, then. What was her problem? She’d done it! She gotten him to kiss her and pushed us apart. He was hers again. Why did she feel the need to rub salt in the wound? Candace I said Do not contact me again. I don’t care how much fun you had. As far as I’m concerned, Lucas and I are through. Whatever the two of you do from now and has nothing to do with me and I don’t want to hear, see, or know about it. It’s done. You won. Enjoy your spoils.

  She didn’t respond, but now I was alight with fire. I went to my closet and put on the most revealing top I had. It happened to be black, with practically no back to speak of, and a low cut front. A quick look in the mirror confirmed that I was showing way too much skin. I nodded and put on some heels as I walked to my rental car.

  About ten minutes later, I pulled up to a dark dance club. Thumping base reverberated through the walls as I made my way inside. With confidence, I went to the bar and ordered the strongest drink they had, downing it quickly. Immediately, I ordered another one.

  My senses were blurry and distant as I danced. With closed eyes, I moved around, not knowing if I looked sexy or pathetic, but not caring either way. I don’t know how many drinks I’d had. At least three. But I was starting to feel numb—which was the point.

  Loud techno blared from the speakers as I moved. Periodically, I would feel someone’s hands on me as they danced with me to the music. They weren’t grabby or inappropriate so I let them continue.

  “You’re beautiful,” I heard someone say and opened my eyes. Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus my vision on the man in front of me. He had dark hair and eyes with full lips and high cheekbones. The similarities between him and Lucas were just enough to make my stomach tense.

  “So are you,” I smiled and pulled him closer to me. Our mouths were a breath apart. We continued to move until suddenly my back was to a wall. Without an invitation, he brought his mouth to mine. Initially, I tensed. These weren’t the lips I wanted. His smell was all wrong. His hands felt too hard. His chin stubble was too rough. But I let him continue until I was able to push past it.

  Before long, my hands were all over him and I was returning his kiss with all my pent up anger—using him to squash the hurt inside me. But even so, he didn’t know how I liked to be touched. Or when I wanted more mouth than tongue. He pulled back and smiled. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  “Give me a second,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Patiently, he waited by the wall as I walked to the bar and closed my tab. I made for the bathroom, but intentionally got lost in the crowd as I went for the exit instead. “Can you call me a cab?” I asked the bouncer.

  Five minutes later, I was in a taxi and headed home.

  In the morning, I didn’t bother getting out of bed even though I was no longer sleepy. My father would be home later in the day, so I decided to stay one more night, hoping to see him. At around three in the afternoon, I crawled out from under the covers with a pounding headache and took a shower.

  A cab took me to my car. The sun shining outside pissed me off. It needed to be gloomy. There should be rain and lots of it. It was unfair that the day would be so glorious when inside I felt like I was drowning.

  Even though I wasn’t hungry, I picked up food on my way back. At the island in my father’s kitchen, I ate it slowly, throwing away the half I couldn’t finish.

  The hours plodded by. I walked around the living room throwing a decorative ball into the air, and remembered playing with a similar one when my sister and I were kids. It wasn’t the same ball. I’d never forget that one. That one was the color of mud and had turquoise jewels glued around it. It reminded me of mermaids for some reason. I used to imagine that it came from one, and even had a story to go along with it. In it, my mother had encountered a mermaid while on a cruise with my father. She’d saved it from poachers and as a reward the creature gave her the ball—which in merland was a highly sought after form of currency. My sister loved the story and one day she and I were fighting over who would get to keep the mermaid jewel. In our tussle, we knocked over a vase. My mother had been furious, and after that, the magical ball disappeared.

  While I was tossing the non-magical ball way up into the vaulted ceiling, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I waited for it to come down before I pulled it out. “Lucas Calling,” was on my screen. It had been at least 24 hours since he’d last tried to reach me. Now that another man’s lips had touched mine, I felt guilty, as if I’d wronged him somehow. That feeling alone brought back a bit of my anger, and I slid the phone back in my pocket. About a minute later it gave another short vibration, telling me that he’d either left a voicemail or texted me.

  By 9 p.m., my father hadn’t arrived. It was already too late to book a flight home, so I found one for the following day. While I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I held my phone in my hand. The icon at the top bar, showed Lucas’ voicemail, waiting for me. Something told me that this would be the last one I’d receive. Did I want to listen to it? I wasn’t sure. If he were here right now, I wouldn’t stop him from crawling in my bed and wrapping his arms around me. I’d believe anything he said. ‘I was drunk.’ or ‘It didn’t mean anything.’ ‘There’s only you.’ I wanted his touch to take away the pain he’d caused. It was ridiculous and unhealthy. There would be others. He wasn’t the only man in the world. I’d gotten over Mark, and we’d been together for years. I could get over Lucas. This pain would fade too. Imagining Candace’s hands in his hair was enough to convince me not to listen to it. But I didn’t erase it either.

  As I was packing my bags to catch my plane, I heard the front door open. Knowing that no one else would be here, I went down the stairs to see my father. While Juanita rushed towards their bedroom, he lingered in the foyer going through mail. He’d gained weight. Not a lot, but enough to stretch his suit jacket a little tighter across his shoulders. When he turned towards me, his face was flush and a glisten of sweat shone on his brow. “Marlowe,” he smiled. “Our plane was delayed. We thought we’d miss you.”

  You certainly tried. “I was waiting for you to get back,” I said, walking into his arms. He gave me a brief hug and stepped back to look at me.

  After he studied me for a moment, his eyes squinted. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Just tired. I’m about to go to the airport and head home. We nearly didn’t get to see one another.”

  “Well, I’m glad we did.” The smile he gave me was one he’d give to a client. Strong but not reaching his eyes. Was this what we had been reduced to? Not wanting to add more emotions to my already heavy heart, I buried my feelings.

  “Me, too.” We hugged again and then he helped me get my bags into my car. When he was finished, he was breathing heavy from exertion. “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said on an exhale. “It’s been a long week. I need to get some rest.”

  “Okay. Take care of yourself.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and went back inside.

  A bad storm delayed my plane in Atlanta and I didn’t make it home until Sunday morning, spending the night in a hotel. Lucas’ car was in his driveway and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I made my way inside.

  There he was, sitting on my couch. Suddenly, I hated that he was friends with my roommates. He didn’t need an excuse to come into my house. He even had a spare key! His hopeful
eyes kept shifting from me to the TV as I walked in. Wally and Ian were there too.

  “Nice trip?” Wally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do anything fun?”

  To be spiteful, I almost confessed to making out with a stranger at a bar, but didn’t. “A little.”

  As I walked by him on the couch, Lucas kept his face forward, but his hand was clenched in a fist. I left my luggage at the foot of the stairs and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor. The name and type didn’t matter. I just wanted to be self-destructive. A glass bottle in hand, I made my way to my room and locked the door behind me. To let everyone know that I didn’t want to be disturbed, I turned on some music and blared it loudly as I drank alone on my bed.

  Hungover, I went to work the next day. It was actually favorable. Mr. Yudeski took one look at my tired, splotchy face and went in the other direction, probably scared that I would start crying again. All day, I had to push through my work, my head pounding and stomach turning over, but I made it.

  I met Nicole and Lacey at a bar for some drinks when I left. I didn’t need one, but being sad and drunk was better than being sad and sober. While we drank, I confessed about my make-out session in New York after receiving the picture from Candace. They didn’t blame me. Not really. They seemed shocked, but understood where I was coming from.

  “Here, look at it,” I said, showing them the photo.

  “Who did she crop out?” Lacey asked.

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  Nicole sat her drink down and looked me dead in the eyes. “I’m not taking sides,” she said. “I know why you’re hurting and understand that he messed up. I’m not even saying that you should forgive him. But look at it. Really look at it.”

  I did, and saw the same thing I had the first time. Both of them smiling. “They look happy,” I said.

  “See,” Lacey said, pointing to the picture. “He has his arm around someone that isn’t Candace. And look at where she’s standing. You could fit two people between them. Maybe she just happened to sneak into the picture.”

  “Why does it matter if she did? He kissed her. He invited her there.”

  “I heard him talking to Ian about it a few days ago,” Lacey said. “At the bar.” We both waited for her to elaborate. She cleared her throat and continued. “As far as I could tell, he didn’t even remember asking her to come. It was that night he was drunk and you two fought. By the time he realized, she was already on her way. She got there some time Thursday night.”

  I’d talked to him Thursday night. That was when he’d said he had to get away for a while. Was she the reason? “I don’t care,” I said. “He should have told me. What about the picture he sent me the next morning? It was of the lake. He said Wish you could be here with me and her foot was in it! She was there. With him. On the lake. With my Lucas,” I said, tears suddenly in my eyes. “And then he kissed her. And let her sleep in his bed.” Nicole reached out and grabbed my hand, giving it a sweet rub.

  “He said he was drunk,” Lacey said. “Maybe she took advantage of him. I heard him say that Fontenot told him you two were out. He thought you were lying to him.”

  Suddenly, I was furious. “Who cares?” I asked forcefully. “So every time we get into a fight or have a misunderstanding, I have to worry about whether or not he’s going to get drunk and call Candace. No fucking thank you. He’s a grown man. All he had to do was talk to me about it.”

  “I know, I know,” Lacey said, trying to calm me. But it was too late. With their judging eyes on me, I ordered shot after shot, and then made out with someone named James. Or Jake. I couldn’t be sure.

  The next night it was Greg. He smelled like cigarettes and was too handsy. Wednesday was David. He was shocked that I even wanted to kiss him and was a sloppy mess. Thursday was Ethan. He was a little too bold for me, and I stopped it before it went too far.

  Day in and day out, I was either hungover or drunk. My work was suffering and my schoolwork was nearly abandoned. I was in the homestretch and couldn’t seem to make myself care anymore. So what if I didn’t make A’s. What was my dad really going to do? Stop paying my rent? It didn’t matter. I’d be graduating soon.

  At home, every time I walked into a room, Wally and Charles would fall silent, as if they had been talking about me. I didn’t care. They could say whatever they wanted. Wally for sure had no room to judge. I tried to look in the mirror as little as possible, not wanting to see the worn out looking face staring back at me. My hair was always a mess. And if I was wearing makeup, it was usually from the night before.

  Lucas was just some dark shadow that lingered in the background. Sometimes he’d be at my house, sometimes he’d be out in his garage, but I never looked at him, and we never spoke. I was surprised. After all the voicemails and texts messages, I’d thought that he would at least try to talk to me. It made me mad that he didn’t. Why wasn’t he hurting as I was? I was a drunken mess and he was walking around as if nothing was bothering him.

  On Saturday, I talked Nicole into going to a bar with me. For the most part, it was fun, but as the night went on and the alcohol flowed, I could tell that she was becoming annoyed. Every time I ordered a drink, she’d say “Haven’t you had enough already?” or “Maybe I should take you home.”

  I’d wave her off and continue in my stupor. This night, I drank more than any of the others and by midnight was sitting in the lap of a buff man with blonde hair. His name was Tony. We’d already kissed, and Nicole kept giving us the stink eye. Our laughter echoed around the table, and with every passing minute, Nicole looked more and more exasperated, until finally she stood. “I’m going home, Marlowe. Come on.”

  “Wanna leave?” I asked Tony, surprised at myself. Usually this was the part in the night where I bid the guy farewell and hoped to never see them again.

  “Sure,” he said and stood.

  I leaned onto his arm as we followed Nicole to her car. She made, made, me sit in the front seat even after I kept trying to get in the back with Tony. “No,” she whispered into my ear. “You’ll thank me later,” she said. I sighed but listened to her.

  Once we made it to my house, Nicole pulled me off to the side of my driveway. “Marlowe,” she said slowly, “listen to me. You are about to invite a strange man into your house. Are you sure about this?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  “That’s the alcohol talking,” she said. “I’m going to allow this to continue, but he is not going to your room and you are not allowed to be alone with him. Tomorrow you’ll realize what a horrible mistake you were about to make and that this ridiculous drinking spree needs to end.”

  I didn’t respond, but leaned on her as we walked towards the door. Tony grabbed me around my waist as we made it to the foyer and whispered something inappropriate in my ear. I couldn’t be sure what it was, but I got the implication and laughed like an idiot.

  I was still laughing when we walked into my living room. His arms were still around my waist, and his mouth was at my neck. And Lucas was standing at the foot of my stairs staring at me. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let out a breath.

  Nicole threw her hands up and walked over to the couch, sitting on it with a thump. Suddenly, I felt sick, and I pulled away from Tony. “I don’t feel so good,” I said. Tony tried to pull me back to him, but I stumbled away towards the small bathroom under our stairs. No one ever used it. There was zero privacy from the living room and it was cramped and tiny. But it was either that or the carpet.

  In a sprint, I made it just in time to empty my stomach into the toilet. The sound was disgusting. Water splashing and dry heaves. “I’m gonna go,” Tony said from the living room.

  “Yeah, you should,” Nicole told him. “Let me give you a lift.” My stomach heaved again as my lunch came up.

  Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t think that I’d started crying. My nose was running and my mouth tasted like stomach acid and Jägermeister. My arm settle
d around the bowl and I leaned against it as I whimpered into the toilet. I reached up with my other hand and flushed.

  Someone was behind me, I could feel them crouching down next to me. A cold washcloth was placed on my neck and then his tender hands started rubbing my back. “Go away,” I told him.

  His hand didn’t stop rubbing. “I brought you some water,” Lucas said.

  “Go away!” I tried to say more forcefully, but it came out as a whine.

  His hand left but he didn’t. I peeked over my shoulder and saw him sitting on the floor in the doorway. Embarrassed that he saw me like this, my face scrunched and I covered it with my hands. “Here drink this,” he said.

  I grabbed a towel from the back of the toilet, wiping my mouth with it. Once I felt somewhat composed, I sat against the wall. Not hiding my annoyance, I took the water from him and drank half of it before sitting it on the sink. As we stared at each other, I realized that his hand had gone into the leg of my jeans and he was rubbing my ankle. A gentle movement that made me sad and angry all at the same time.

  “I’ve kissed seven guys since I last kissed you,” I said, hoping to hurt him.

  If it did, he didn’t let it show. The only indication was a slight pause of his fingers before he started rubbing again. “Is that all you did with them?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I spat.

  “Are we even then?”

  My head fell back against the wall. “Sure,” I said. “But we’re also done. You aren’t made for commitment, and I’m exhausted.”

  His hand circled my ankle and he gave it a squeeze. “Marzy,” he said, starting to reach for me.

  I don’t know what would have made me madder, him calling me Marzy, Marlowe, or baby. “Don’t,” I said, throwing a hand up. “We had our chance and it didn’t work out.”