Impressions of You (The Impressions Series Book 1)

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Impressions of You (The Impressions Series Book 1) Page 20

by Christopher Harlan


  He was picking me up at five o’clock, which gave me enough time to rush home and take a shower after work. I already know where I want him to take me. The doorbell rings right at five, and when I open the door he looks as handsome as ever. He’s wearing a white button down with his sleeves rolled up and a nice pair of khakis. Like all his clothing it’s fitted perfectly to hint at the sculpted body underneath, a body I’ll hopefully be seeing a lot more of later on.

  “Wow, you look beautiful.” He always greets me like this, and I always think how backwards he has it. “And you look a lot happier than I expected. I know you said good news in your text, but I still assumed the biggest dinner decision was exactly what kind of alcohol to drown our sorrows in.”

  “I thought so, too, but that’s not how it went at all. I’ll tell you later on . . . no, the hell with that, I can’t wait.” I really can’t. I’m still drunk with happiness that all of my stress over the budget is gone.

  “Wow, it must really be good news then.”

  “It is. So guess what?”

  “Ummm . . . your boss loved your presentation so much that they offered you an administrative position, right there on the spot, which you of course accepted with tear-soaked eyes and a big hug. Am I close?”

  “The crying part is right,” I confess. “There was a lot of that from everyone in the room, me included. Even the director of the school, Dr. Fisher, was bawling her eyes out, and I’ve barely ever seen her crack a smile before, let alone lose it in front of her staff.” It’s true, Dr. Fisher really was stoic in front of the staff, but I guess she had to project an image of strength at all times, otherwise she never would have gotten to where she is now.

  “Wait, like, actual tears? A room full of crying women? Sounds terrifying.”

  “It was amazing, actually, and no one in the room except Dr. Fisher had any idea about it beforehand. It was a legit surprise.”

  “Okay,” Wesley begins enthusiastically, “you’ve peeked my interest now, fess up. What is the magical ‘it’ that had everyone in the room reaching for the Kleenex box?”

  “Oh I’m sorry,” I say in the most sarcastic voice I can muster in the moment. “Do you not like half-stories that have vague pronouns that leave you totally confused? That’s weird.” Wesley’s eyebrow shoots sky-high. “No, no, that’s my ‘fuck you’ look; you don’t get to steal it.”

  “Touché,” he says.

  “No I can’t even joke, I’m too excited. Come sit down.” I take his hand and pull him down next to me on the sofa. I don’t care if we’re late to dinner, I need to tell someone. I take him through the story, and the entire time I’m talking he can’t erase the smile from his face.

  “Ok, you were absolutely right, that’s amazing news!” He’s so excited for me, he wraps both arms around my shoulders and bear hugs me right on the couch.

  “So take me back to Genelli’s, I need a glass of red wine and a huge bowl of rigatoni to celebrate. Make that a few glasses of wine. I’ll sleep off the alcohol and carbs tonight.”

  “We already have a reservation,” he tells me. He knows me so well already, and exactly where I’d want to go. “But there’s someplace that I want to take you first before we have a proper celebration. Will you join me?”

  “Maybe,” I say coyly. “Sooo, where we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I hate surprises,” I tell him. I’m not lying either. I love cool things but hate being surprised. If you want to give me something just give it to me already. I never got the surprise thing.

  “You won’t hate this one.” He tries to reassure me, but I’m skeptical. “Come with me, it’ll be quick, then we can be at Genelli’s by dinnertime, I promise. Wine and rigatoni. Maybe if I’m lucky a kiss at the end of the night?”

  “Nah, I’m good, just the wine and pasta.” I smile. “I mean, maybe a kiss if you’re especially good and I’m especially drunk. But just a peck.”

  “I’ll take a peck. Now let’s go.”

  “Well then, take me away.”

  We get in his car and drive for about fifteen minutes. I can’t imagine where he’s taking me, but I’m happy to drive anywhere with him. I’m also happy that wine and pasta are waiting for me as a reward. I don’t mind waiting, though, my head is still in the clouds from the news today, and I’m curious where we’re going. We get to our destination a little bit before five thirty. We’re a few towns over from where Genelli’s is. I’ve been over in this area before for a professional development workshop that Dr. Fisher asked me to run last year. I remember how nervous I was that day when I had to find the conference building, set up my room, and talk to a room full of twenty, first-year teachers about how to motivate autistic students in the classroom; something I’m still trying to master myself. But this was a different part of town than my PD was in. This area is more residential.

  Wesley makes a right onto a street whose white, vertical sign reads Wellwood Springs. It’s a really nice area that I’ve never seen before; the homes are moderate but beautifully kept, with neat, lush landscaping on everyone’s lawn, and I can tell that the houses have been impeccably taken care of through the years, with no chipped siding or dilapidated construction to be seen. It was very suburban and cozy. As we get to the end of the block he slows the car to a crawl. “It’s this one, just on the left here,” he says, pointing to small but nice ranch home that sits on the large corner property. “Right here.” We pull into the driveway where there are two other cars, and I wonder whose house this is. “So what’s the deal? Whose house is this?”

  “Someone I’d like you to meet lives here.”

  Wesley walks me to the door and I’m totally confused as to what we’re doing there. A middle-aged woman who looks like a nurse answers the door. “Oh, we didn’t expect you today, Mr. Marsden,” she says looking surprised. Mr. Marsden?

  “I know, Marta, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mess up your timing, but I really wanted to introduce my girlfriend. Is now a good time?” What did he just call me?

  “No, it’s fine, Mr. Marsden, she’s in her room, follow me.” Marta turns and starts to walk down the hallway and I’m a little freaked out.

  “Hey, Wesley,” I whisper.

  “Yeah.”

  “You got a girlfriend you’re seeing behind my back?” I’m smiling, but he knows that he hasn’t called me that before. I’ve felt like his girlfriend for a while, and I know that he loves me, but hearing him say the words is like magic.

  “I was gonna tell you about her over dinner, sorry I let it slip out. You’ll probably be jealous though, she’s hot as fuck—like a perfect ten.”

  “Whore,” I say, joking.

  “She can be,” he jokes back, and my jaw opens in shock. “But only for me.”

  We walk down a really long hallway, and I’m still completely in the dark as to where I am. On the wall there are beautiful sketch drawings and framed family photos that I pass too quickly to really notice. We come to an open bedroom door, and Marta knocks on the outside of the door. “Annabelle, your brother is here to see you, and he brought a guest.”

  Annabelle! Oh my God he brought me to meet his sister and he didn’t even warn me. I grab his arm as he starts to walk in the room. “Wesley, I can’t, I didn’t know I was going to meet her right now.”

  “I know,” he says confidently. “I wanted it to be a surprise, for both of you actually.” I’m a little taken aback. “Don’t worry,” he assures me, “you can’t say the wrong thing, believe me, and it means the world to me that she meets you. She knows all about you.” The last part takes me by surprise, even more so than the unannounced visit, or being referred to as his girlfriend for the first time.

  “She knows about me?” I ask.

  “Of course she does,” he says it as if it was a foregone conclusion. “We speak all the time, and she loves to hear about what’s going on with me. I told her about you after the first time I met you.” I’m shocked.

  “And what did you
tell her?”

  “I told her that I met a girl named Mia, and that she was the most beautiful of all beautiful girls, and that I loved her already, she just didn’t know about it yet because it was too soon to tell her.” My heart melts to hear his words; sometimes I forget what a romantic he can be.

  “Oh wow. No pressure, though, right?”

  “No pressure.”

  We turn and walk inside, and all I see is the blurry figure of a girl running and leaping into Wesley’s arms before he’s even fully inside the room. She looks like a little kid in his big arms, and he holds her up in the air for an eternity as she squeezes him tightly. “Anna, there’s someone here I want you to meet, but you’re going to have to let go of me first.” It’s great to see him smiling and acting like an older brother; I’ve never see this side of him before. He puts her down as if she was as light as a feather, and when he does I finally get to look at her.

  Annabelle Marsden. She looks exactly like she did as a little girl in that newspaper clipping, only she’s clearly aged some. But it’s the same face, and the same big happy smile that I saw in the picture. “Hi Mia,” she practically yells to me in her excited voice before running up and giving me the biggest hug ever. Before I can even say hi back her arms are wrapped around my waist and I feel her squeezing with all her might.

  “Hi, Annabelle,” I say squeezing back. “How are you, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” She’s still holding on to me, and I can see Wesley standing across the room with a big grin on his face.

  “It’s nice to meet you too. And you can call me Anna. Wes always calls me Anna.”

  “You got it, Anna. Wesley, she looks just like you, my God.” She really does. She had some of the easily identifiable facial features of someone with Down’s; slight slanting of her eyes, abnormally shaped ears, a very flat nose, but she’s a very beautiful girl, and I can see that the Marsden beauty runs in the family.

  “Anna got the good looks in the family; Kane and I are just her ugly brothers.” We all laugh.

  “Are you Wes’s girlfriend?” she asks, looking at me. I should have expected this question but it mortifies me a little to hear it asked out loud and not just in my own head. Even though Wesley just dropped that bomb on me a few minutes ago, it’s still strange to think of calling myself by that title. But I only hesitate for a second, just long enough to realize that no hesitation is necessary.

  “Yes I am.” Annabelle smiles and claps her hands like she just heard the most exciting news there ever was. It makes me happy to see her happy, and it’s equally satisfying to call myself by a proper title now.

  “Wesley?” she asks, laughing. “Don’t call him that, my dad called him that.”

  “Well what should I call him them, Wesley’s his name.” She giggles again, as if I’m foolishly wrong about what I’m saying. I laugh back because I don’t know how else to react.

  “Wes, silly,” she says. “Call him Wes like I do.” I look over at Wesley who’s just standing there, looking amazed at what his sister is saying to me. It’s like some tacit seal of approval—she’s giving me permission to call him by the name that only she’s ever called him. When I look up into his eyes I see it—he’s okay with me calling him Wes, he even gives me a subtle little head nod to let me know. Even still, I’m not sure I’m there yet.

  “Are you sure?” I ask Annabelle. “Isn’t that your special name for your brother? That’s just for you.”

  “You’re special to Wes. He told me that. You’re the most special.” I feel like crying to hear her say that. I feel like I’m being let into some exclusive club that I don’t deserve to be in. This is Annabelle accepting me.

  “Okay, then, thank you so much Anna.”

  We talk for a few more minutes and then say good-bye. It’s been an amazing surprise after all, one I never would have imagined happening. She gives me and Wesley the biggest hugs ever and then we go, and she makes me promise to come back soon, which I happily will.

  “She seems so . . . well adjusted. So happy,” I tell Wesley as we’re walking out.

  “She is happy, amazingly. Considering what happened she does really well, but a lot of what you saw today was me being here. People with Down’s often suffer from depression or anxiety, and Anna even more so since the event. That’s why we have constant care for her. But Kane and I visit and speak to her several times a week, no matter what else we have going on.”

  “You’re good to her; both of you. She’s lucky to have you.”

  “No. We’re lucky to have her; we always have been. I think that’s why the incident broke our family up—Anna was the baby, and she has special needs, so we were always protective of her—even Kane. He’s a minute older than her.”

  “It’s funny I don’t see your brother as the comforting, protective type.” I see him as the handsome creep standing over my naked body.

  “You’d be surprised—Kane’s a complex guy. He’s everything you think he is, but he’s also many things that would surprise you. And it might be him who took Anna’s abduction the hardest of us all. He has his own issues because of it, but he’s working on them.” He stops and looks right in my eyes, “We all are.”

  “I can’t believe how Annabelle lit up when you walked in the room. I can’t imagine her depressed or anxious.” It’s true. I didn’t realize until I saw her in person, but whenever Wesley spoke about his sister I always pictured her as profoundly screwed up. And I’m sure she is in a lot of ways, but I could never tell by the pure happiness radiating from her when we walked in the room. That’s probably the best hug I’ve had in years; it’s definitely one of the most genuine.

  “Yeah, she was having a really good day.” Wesley smiles. “She loves when I visit and tell her about whatever’s going on in my life. Luckily there’s been a lot more for me to talk about.” I can see the love in his eyes.

  “Oh yeah,” I joke. “Like what kind of stuff?” He loves when I’m playful with him; he makes a face that accentuates all those things that make him beautiful to look at: his eyes glisten; his cheekbones rise up as he smiles, and he just seems light. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I feel so little.

  “Nothing much, you know,” he says sarcastically. “But I think now might be a good time to tell you all about that girlfriend I mentioned before.”

  “Whore.”

  “Right, her.” He smiles. “That’s kind of what I’m hoping for, actually. See I’m taking her out to dinner tonight to celebrate some big news at her job?”

  “Oh yeah? Where are you taking her?”

  “This great Italian place, Genelli’s, just about a half hour from here.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s excellent. We’ve been there before for lunch. Great rigatoni ala vodka, excellent pinot noir.”

  “That bitch likes the same wine as me?”

  “Yeah, you two have a lot in common, actually.” We banter back and forth. As we make our way out of the house I take a better look at the picture frames that adorn the wall in the hallway. They were mostly of their family; I recognized Wesley’s beautiful face right away, and even as a kid he was handsome. Kane looked the same also, and in the pictures he has an edge to his expression that the other two kids didn’t have. Anna was a ray of sunshine, just like Wesley described her, and her happiness jumped off of the photos even with just a passing glance. As we get in his car I think about the stories that pictures can tell; the truths they reveal and the truths that they hide away. They all looked so happy, a cohesive family that looked about as happy as family got. And I’m sure they were, but there were so many stories that pictures never told. Hopefully I can hear more of those stories with time. But now it’s time for pasta and wine, and some stories of my own.

  “Wes,” I say for the first time, “take me away. I’m hungry.”

  I HATE STAFF MEETINGS generally, I think we all do. It’s exhausting to sit around work for another hour after what’s been, for most of us, an already exhausting da
y. Usually the topics of discussion are things better left as emails, memos, or even as general announcements, but today is different. Today there’s news that everyone is going to want to hear, even those of us who already knew what was going on. All of us on the board had probably told at least five people each, and following the laws of gossip, there’s a strong possibility that everyone in the room already had an idea what this was about. We knew that most people in the room weren’t going to be surprised by the news, but hearing something official by the director of the school made it real, and there was going to be a guest speaker as well.

  I got to the meeting a little late—and by late I mean that I was less early than I usually am, leaving only about five minutes before the festivities began. I see Dr. Fisher setting up her presentation on the big screen in the auditorium and readying the microphone at the podium. As I watch her I think about how proud this day must be for her, and I’m excited that she gets to make this announcement to her whole staff. I look around the room and see smiling faces and a bunch of TA’s that are still filing in after the busses just finished picking up the kids for dismissal.

  “Okay, let’s begin, everyone,” Dr. Fisher declares to the room of tired teachers and TA’s. Everyone pays attention when she speaks; she has a very commanding voice. I see her PowerPoint slides behind her, and she can’t even hide the look of pride and excitement on her face. Even though staff members are still coming in the auditorium from dismissal, no one is making a sound. The entire staff is together as one, listening to Dr. Fisher’s voice. Dr. Fisher begins her speech acknowledging our inability to keep anything a secret. “So, let’s begin with the worst kept secret of the year.” Everyone laughs. “But, seriously, many of you know how much of a struggle this year has been in terms of our budgetary demands, and what the consequences would be if we had to close.” You could hear a pin drop as she spoke. On the screen behind her is the logo of the Elizabeth Foundation, which I already knew was the private donor whose generosity was keeping our doors open for another five years at least—hopefully even longer than that.

 

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