by M. R. Joseph
Just believe.
Of course, I’ve talked to the man a million times in the past month. I can’t text at work, but when I leave school for the day there has to be no less than I’d say oh… about twenty texts from him. Always joking, always telling me he misses me. The video chat thing is doing ok, but he does mostly night duty, so it’s hard. He’ll text me a picture of himself, of the stars on his hips and joke about how when he sees me he fully expects me to give them a lick.
The man is insatiable.
I love my new job. Seventh graders are funny with all their raging hormones and know-it-all attitudes. My mom tells me we were the same growing up. We thought we had all the answers. The staff at the school is great. I feel comfortable, and it was an easy transition from student to teacher.
As much as I love my parents, even though they have been so wonderful to me, I needed to be on my own. I needed to move out and get my own place, which I did. I bought a small condo about ten minutes from their house, and I’m in absolute love with it. Of course, in the grand fashion of my parental units, I put the down payment on it myself, but they bought me some of my furniture. Sometimes Craw stays with me, and Greta, well Greta is too busy being Bridezilla at the moment. The wedding is a short three months away. New Year’s Eve, figures, even Greta could take the spotlight off the new year. Cruz is coming to the wedding, which I’m so excited for. Unfortunately, he has to work Christmas Eve and day, but is off for New Year’s. He’s staying for four whole days.
Oh, the possibilities.
I make myself blush when thoughts of him, his rock hard abs, and his sexy tattoos appear in my head.
I can’t wait for him to meet my parents. They say they feel like they practically know him from the way I’m always talking about him. My mom says I have twinkling stars in my eyes when I mention his name, the same ones she says she had and still does for my dad.
That’s true love.
Some days when I come home to the empty house I occupy, I get sad. Not that I don’t like being alone, I just well… I’m not used to it. My phone buzzes in my pocket on my way home from work and it’s Cruz. I can’t help to smile when I see his name on the caller ID.
“Hi there, Dickcop. What are you up to?”
“Hi there, yourself, Turnip. What are you up to?”
I pull into my driveway and turn off the ignition.
“Just getting home from work. You have the day off today, don’t you?”
“Yep. I’m just driving around, doing some much needed errands.”
“Well at least you’re being productive and using your time well.”
“Hopefully.”
I tell him to hold on while I get my work bag and the bag of groceries I picked up on my way home. I dig out my keys and walk towards my front door. I can see something sitting in front of it, not close enough yet to see exactly what it is, and I immediately try to think back if I ordered anything that would be delivered. And I can’t.
“You there?” He asks.
“Yes, yes I’m here. I’m getting ready to walk in my door.”
I get closer and see that whatever it is, it’s wrapped in green paper, so I tuck the phone under my chin, and bend over to pick it up.
Well, I’ll be damned.
A bouquet of turnips.
I look around, onto the street, to the neighbor’s door that’s next to mine.
“Cruz?”
“Yea, Turnip?”
“What errands are you running?”
My heart accelerates, palms sweating when he doesn’t answer. I put the key in and turn the lock and there’s my answer, standing in my foyer.
Looking at his baby blues, his broad shoulders, and his smile is like I just stepped right into heaven. I drop everything I have in my hands to run to him. Jumping on him, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing him like it’s the first time.
As soon as I touch his sweet lips and run my hands through his unruly hair, I feel truly home, not with bricks and mortar, but in his arms.
His kisses are fierce, red hot, and it makes my blood course through my veins at speeds of those of the greatest of forces.
He backs me up against one of the walls, tugging at my clothes, and me at his. Not being able to get them off fast enough, we cut through the red tape, no talking, just living, breathing, sharing the desire we both feel for… Each other.
When he enters my body, the pleasure I feel is immeasurable, leaving me in a dazed frenzy of emotions. The feel of his hands on my body, the softness and hardness of the way he takes me, letting my body give into him, sending me over the edge over and over again. I try to speak, the words coming from me are in spurts and interrupted sounds.
“How’d… You… Oh God, yes, don’t stop… Did you get in my house?”
He grunts and moans and he continues to impale me, my back banging against the drywall behind me.
“Oh, Christ… I… I called Craw. He had a key. I met him over… Jesus, Turnip… My God you feel so fucking good.”
I claw his shoulders, trying to steady myself as I ride him with all the power and energy I have.
“Over what?” My breathing heavy and labored as I ask the question.
“Cof… Cof… Coffee. Oh God here I come. Hold on, sweetheart.”
He pours into me, still pumping away, as I’m sent hurling into space, seeing stars, colors bursting, air changing, the universe spinning out of my control.
Cruz pulls out of me and we slide carefully beside each other down the wall.
Panting, sweating, smiling, and sated.
I turn to him.
“Well you were right, you did spend your time off productively.” I wink at Cruz and he reaches for my hand and kisses it.
“I missed you so much I didn’t think I could go another day without seeing you. It’s been a month you know?”
“I’m well aware, trust me. What’s with the bouquet of turnips though?”
He shrugs at me. “I told you I don’t do flowers.”
Typical Cruz.
“How long are you staying?”
He stands, pulling up his pants, but keeping them unbuckled so I have a great view of the stars that touch each of his hips. I trace them with my fingertips, studying them and the intricate detail on them. He rolls his head back at my touch. I lean in a bit closer, my face only centimeters from the ink that’s embedded in his smooth skin. I dart my tongue out to taste him, his skin still warm from our friction. The edge of my tongue skimming the outline of the stars, as I place kisses along the perimeter.
“What are you doing to me, Turnip?” I look up at him underneath my lashes and smile.
“You told me you couldn’t wait for me to lick them, so I’m taking full advantage of your day off.”
He kneads his fingers in my hair, and I work my way up his body, putting my lips on his flesh. His hard, hot skin almost burning my lips.
When I reach his lips, I kiss him differently, there’s something else I feel in this kiss and the way he responds back to it solidifies the fact I have come to terms with: I’m in love with Raphael Cruz.
As much as I would like to spend the next few hours in bed with Cruz, and never let him out of my sight, I want him to meet my mom and dad. Craw called, and he said he told Mom Cruz came to surprise me, so she wanted to meet the young man who swept me off my feet. Cruz said he was looking forward to it. At six, we make our way to my parent’s house, kissing at every stop light, every stop sign, our fingers intertwined the whole way. When we pull up to my parents, Cruz’s eyes are wide with surprise at the size of it. I look over at him and reassure him it’s just a house.
We enter the house and my ten year old yellow lab, Sadie, greets us, jumping on Cruz and making him laugh.
“Down girl, get down,” I tell her while giving her a nice rub of the ears.
“Hey sweetie,” my mom says as she rounds the corner, apron fixed across her chest and tied.
“Hi, Mom. I want you to meet… Um…” I don’t kno
w what to say or to call him. Cruz, Raphael, but he takes care of it for me.
He extends his hand to take hers. “Harlow’s boyfriend, Raphael, very nice to meet you finally, Mrs. Hannum.”
My boyfriend.
Hot damn!
“Well, Raphael, or is it ok to call you Cruz?”
My mom winks at me and Cruz chuckles.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s fine.”
“Then Cruz, it’s very nice to meet you as well. I’ve heard a lot about the man who makes my Harlow happy.”
I blush and Cruz takes my hand and squeezes it, taking it up to his lips to kiss it.
“That’s the goal, Mrs. Hannum, and I plan to keep it that way.” He pulls from behind his back the small bouquet of daisies he made me stop for on the way here. They’re my mom’s favorite.
“These are for you. Thank you for having me in your home.”
My mom gasps and I roll my eyes as he gives me a cocky grin.
“Oh, they’re my favorite. I used to grow them on my parent’s farm. Thank you so much, Cruz. Come in the kitchen and sit while I finish dinner.”
We follow my mom through the foyer into our kitchen, and I step up on my tippy toes and whisper in his ear, “I thought you didn’t do flowers.” He kisses my forehead and replies, “I do for moms, not for you. For you, it’s turnips, Turnip.” I smack his arm.
Craw comes home from campus and sits for dinner with us. Dad is still at the office, but will be home soon. Mom asks Cruz about his new job and how we met. We both laugh at the question, and she doesn’t get it, but Craw does, so he gestures with a finger down his throat when Mom’s not looking. We hear Dad come in.
“Hey, crew, I’m home.” He goes right to my mom and plants one on her, and strokes her hair, kind of like what Cruz always does to me.
“How was your day, love?”
“Great, two of the three spawn are here and we have a guest, Joe.”
My dad doesn’t notice Cruz sitting next to me in Greta’s chair. He was too consumed with greeting my mom. God, their love amazes me.
Cruz stands up even before my dad has a chance to come to the end of the table where we sit. Just like with my mom, he extends his hand.
“Mr. Hannum, nice to meet you. Raphael Cruz.”
Dad shakes his hand, thoroughly, eyeing Cruz in a dad sort of way.
“The Marine, correct?”
“Yes, sir. MWSS.”
“Marine Wing Support Squadron. Very impressive, Mr. Cruz. Thank you for your service.”
“It was my honor, sir.”
I think my face hurts from smiling so much. All this is so unexpected. Craw looks at me from across the table, giving me a thumbs up.
During dinner, Dad asks Cruz about where he served and a few things about his service I had already known. Mom is impressed. Dad is impressed and Cruz is relaxed, grabbing my hand under the table, giving me glances during dessert and asking Dad about being a lawyer. They do the small talk thing while I help Mom with the dishes. Cruz asks my mom if she needs help, but she tells him he is a guest, and guests don’t clean up. Now if Grandmother were here, she’d stick a butler’s uniform on him and tell him to get to work. She won’t be as impressed with him as my parents are, and that worries me a bit.
I look at my watch and realize it’s almost nine and Cruz has a three hour drive back to Sandy Cove. My stomach sinks and I feel sick because our time is up.
We say goodbye to my parents. They tell him they look forward to seeing him at Greta’s wedding.
The car ride back to my house is silent. I hate this. I really do.
“Holy fuck!” He yells and pulls to the side of the road. His hands fly to his hair and he looks ashen.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” I yell at him.
“We had sex three times today and we didn’t use condoms. How did I let this happen? Please tell me you’re on the pill or something?”
I’m a bit taken aback by his words, but he doesn’t know the truth. Is it a good time to tell him? Do I allow him into the darkness that has plagued my life for almost the last two years?
Yes, because I love him, and he has the right to know.
“No, I’m not on the pill,” I snap, but immediately regret saying it in that tone.
Running his hands thoroughly through his hair, his jaw opens and shuts as he tried to process what had happened. “Oh, my God, Harlow. We could be in big trouble here.”
My mind suddenly goes to the place where I don’t want it to go. I’ve been doing a really good job at hiding it, but he looks so worried. I need to emerge from the dark place before it grips me and pulls me in further. I have to remember to be strong, not to let it bring me to where I so seldom go anymore. That was before Dr. Goldberg, that was before Cruz, my therapy, my only hope.
“No, we can’t ‘cause I can’t be pregnant.”
“Yes, yes you can be. Christ, Turnip, I came in you three times and you never know. You very well could have just gotten pregnant.”
I feel the strain of his words, and they aren’t true. The impossibility of them makes me panic, bringing me further down, sinking deeper and deeper. I rock back and forth in my seat, biting my lip, holding back the tears, ready to implode. So I do.
I can’t hear myself scream the words, but I know I am. It’s the only time in a very long time I say the words out loud.
“I can’t ever be pregnant! Never, ever. It will never happen. I had a fucking abortion and I almost bled to death so I had to have a partial hysterectomy. I’m almost twenty three years old and I will go through my whole life knowing what I did will directly affect me for as long as I live. Are you fucking happy now that you know?! Are you fucking happy?”
My tears turn into sobs, and I’m so afraid to look at him, so ashamed of the consequences that have brought me here. I lean my head against the coolness of the window and between my muffled cries I tell him to take me home. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls away from the side of the road. When we get to the front of my house, I feel a little calmer, but not enough not to let him know the rest of the story if he wants to. I’m in love with him, and he either needs to accept what has happened to me, or leave me. Either way, I’m afraid of losing.
I sigh and look over at him. His eyes stare at the street in front of him, hands resting in his lap.
“I didn’t want you to leave here tonight like this, with this between us. If you want to know the story, I’ll tell you, and you can form your own opinion. It is what it is, Cruz, and I can’t go back and change what happened. It’s taken me such a long time to get through it.”
He turns to me with solemn eyes.
“Can we go inside and you can tell me?” His words are quiet, but not harsh or angry, just soft.
We go into the house and I make us some coffee. We sit across from each other at my breakfast bar. The hot liquid’s scent creeping through my nose, and I take a much needed sip.
“I’m going to tell you the whole story, Cruz, some stuff will make you angry, you may even hate me for it, but if we are going to be together, I need to be honest with you.”
He reaches for my hand, and I’m grateful for it.
“I could never hate you, Turnip. I… Go ahead.”
“In February of last year, I found out I was pregnant. It was Chad’s baby, and I wanted to keep it. He, of course, didn’t. See that would have ruined his dating life.”
Cruz grins sadly at me, and I shrug my shoulders.
“I was still away at school, and when I told Chad I wanted to keep the baby he gave me a million and one reasons not to. It wouldn’t look good for such prominent families in our society to have a child out of wedlock. His parents would disown him, even though our dads are golf buddies. He convinced me I planned it, I trapped him, and he told me that the whole town would look at me as a whore if I trapped Chad Knox into having a child.”
Cruz shakes his head, and his eyes grow dark.
“When I stood up for myself and told him I wanted to have
the baby, that’s really when things got ugly.”
He told me I wasn’t worthy of carrying his child. I was worthless, and I believed it. He twisted my thoughts and my feelings, and that’s when I knew that the only way out of this was to do what he said and get rid of it.”
“And you believed all that?”
I nod. “At the time, yes.” Cruz’s stare bores into me, his nostrils flaring. His hands are flat against the top of the bar, but I know him and I can tell his anger is building.
“Just get rid of it? Those were his words?”
Ashamed, I nod, looking down at my hands tangled together and sweaty from nerves.
He adjusts himself in his chair, finding a more comfortable position, probably to tell me he wants nothing to do with me, and that I’m a disgrace.
But again, he surprises me with his actions.
He stands and comes over to where I’m sitting. He places his arm underneath my body and lifts me up, cradling me in his arms, and takes me into the living room. He sits on the sofa as I sit in his lap, forcing my head to rest on the broadness of his shoulder. I feel so safe with him, like nothing in the world could ever harm me again.
“Tell me the rest,” he whispers to me softly.
“He didn’t go with me to the clinic. Willow took me to one near school. I wanted it done there so the risk of my parents finding out would not be a possibility. So we went and after it was done, Willow took me back to our apartment and within an hour I started not to feel right, and all the… All the blood started to pour out of my body. Clumps.”
Cruz senses my panic, so he strokes my hair and tells me to relax.
“Willow called Craw and he came right over. He was at the same school as us, and they took me to the hospital where they performed surgery. They told me that I could have bled to death because the clinic I went to was not sanitary even though it looked it.”
Kissing my ear, then my temple, he asks, “So is that why you looked so uncomfortable when we went to the hospital for Baby Matteo?”