by Bourne, Lena
His words aren't quite registering, but I think I get his meaning anyway. Maybe it's the fact that he's pressing his leg against mine under the table as he's saying it.
"Call her. I'd rather not look like someone beat me up for the next two weeks," I say.
He pulls out his phone and starts texting her, but I can just tell he's not thrilled about it. And neither am I, not really.
I put my hand over his phone. "Or she can show me some other time." He places his phone on the table, the text half written. "You really shouldn't have said she was hot."
He grins at me crookedly, his teeth gleaming in the sunlight. I can't wait anymore for him to make the first move. I lean over the table and kiss him. It's a clumsy move, and I bump my cup, sending coffee sloshing all over the table.
His lips are soft, but a little chapped from the cold, and the roughness sends a jolt of electricity right through me. I'm touching his arms, my fingers under his sleeves, feeling the hard muscles. His tongue is in my mouth now, and I can taste coffee and mint. I press my leg against his more firmly, and he runs his fingers through my hair, pulling me closer, kissing me deeper. I don't want it to stop, ever.
I'm so ready to do this for the rest of the day, take it farther, all the way. But people, mostly families with little kids, are watching and that irks me. I pull away from the kiss, the cold air turning my lips to ice.
"What?" he asks, his hand still tangled in my hair.
"All these people…" I say, "I feel like I'm on stage."
"Seriously, Gail?" He releases me and leans back. "You didn't strike me as a prude like that."
I know he's thinking about the way I attacked him in Kate's garden, how I came to him in just my underwear. I'm seeing those images clearly, like he just described them to me in detail, though he did nothing of the sort. He's still leaning back in his chair, his eyes darker now, like a midnight sky in deep winter, dangerous and cold. My mind is stuck between wanting to run, and throwing myself at him right here, right now.
"I was a little out of it last week," I say finally, honestly.
"So this isn't all just some game you're playing?"
My eyes are wide open and I shake my head. "No." How can he think that? How can he not?
"I went to high school with a lot of rich girls like you. Doing what you want when you want, then acting like you're above it all with your daddy's money and connections to fall back on."
I lean back too, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't know what kind of girls you've been with, but I'm not like that. I was just very confused and very hurt, and maybe I just wanted to feel good for a little while." My cheeks are burning and my breath is sticking in my throat, but I can't stop talking. "Don't pretend you've never just slept with a girl because you wanted sex, you're not the type. And my dad doesn't have a lot of money."
He leans forward, knocking the table with his leg and sending our cups jangling. "So you were just using me?"
"Maybe I was." He doesn't scare me, not really, though his eyes are so dark now it's like a hurricane is about to hit.
"Are you still doing it?"
"I don't think so." It's the truth, but he shouldn't be able to pry the truth from me so easily, I should fight it.
"Oh, Gail," he says and leans back, still staring with me with that impossible look.
"My name's Gail, not gale," I say.
He grins a little. "I'm not so sure. You're pretty intense."
My mouth is hanging open, I know it is. Did he just compare me to a storm wind? Does he think I'm completely wild?
"I don't even know why you wanted to see me again," I say, feeling tears bubbling in my throat. "You clearly think I'm crazy."
"Well," he says in a tone that makes my bottom lip shake. I bite down hard on it.
"I wanted to see you because I like you," he elaborates more lightly.
"But you think I'm crazy and a total bitch for using you." The words just spill out, and I can't stop them.
"Yeah, well, there's also that."
I need him to say something nice to me right now, or I'll just bolt and run all the way home.
"I like how bossy and confident you are about getting what you want. But I want there to be something more than just that, and I'm not sure you do."
I'm not even sure how to reply. A few hours ago, I was certain I never wanted to see him again. Then he called and I changed my mind in an instant, and now I'm sitting here clueless as to what I'm feeling.
His phone rings, Janine's name flashing on the screen. At least he doesn't have her picture with the name. He turns off the ringer.
"Get it," I say, because it's one way of getting out of this conversation.
He shrugs and answers the phone.
"You said you'd call me, Scott." Her rich voice reaches me.
"Tell her she can come," I say. "I could use her help."
He does, then leans back looking at me. I once again wish I'd brought my sunglasses, so his eyes wouldn't pierce me like that, and make me choose.
Janine arrives about ten minutes later. I spend the time wishing I could rewind time back to the kiss. He doesn't say anything either, and I have no idea what he's thinking. His face is a blank mask, and his eyes reveal nothing.
"Hi, again," she says and plops down in the chair next to mine. I'm painfully aware of how nearly every man is now staring past me at her, as though I'm not even there.
"Janine! Where have you been hiding?" a man sitting with his friends a few tables down yells. "Wanna get together later?"
His friends laugh.
Janine ignores him. Her hands are shaking as she pulls out a makeup bag from her purse. Scott is staring at her and she's peering up into his face, pleadingly.
The man gets up from the table and starts to walk over. "Come on, Janine, you know me."
His friends laugh again.
Scott rolls his eyes at Janine. Then he straightens up and turns around, grabbing the back of his chair so his bicep bulges out.
"Shit, I didn't recognize you there, Scott," the man says and stops. "How 'ave you been?"
"Just fine, Louie, I've been just fine," Scott says and turns back to face us. The man goes back to sit with his friends, who are laughing at him now.
"Louie, Janine? Seriously? What were you thinking?" Scott says and rubs his hand over his eyes. "Forget it. I don't even wanna know."
"Then don't ask," Janine says and orders a coffee from the waitress who's been hovering beside us, waiting for the scene to play out.
Scott's still leaning against his hand, staring at Janine like he's all of ten years old and she's bleeding to death in front of him. Then he sighs, takes his phone off the table and starts scrolling.
Janine takes my chin and turns my face toward her, peering at my nose. "I see you already did something. But that color's totally not the right one for this."
She pulls a packet of wet wipes from her purse, and hands them to me. "Take it off yourself. I don't want to hurt you."
I wince as I wipe away the concealer and foundation from my face. She rummages in the make up bag, pulling out a bunch of little powder boxes and arranging them on the table. Scott's still leaning back in his chair, fiddling with his phone.
"Let's try this one," Janine says, holding a narrow box, the squares inside filled with different colored pastes, ranging from green, yellow to brown.
She applies some of the yellow paste onto a sponge and dabs my face gently, making me wince. "Sorry," she says and her next dab is softer.
"And a little of this…" she mutters to herself, applying the brown colors in layers. The whole process takes about ten minutes before she's finally satisfied.
She pulls out a compact and holds it up to my face. "Look, you can hardly see it at all now."
I take the mirror from her and see she's right. My skin is smooth and glowing, all trace of my black eyes gone.
Janine hands me the box of concealer and the sponge. "Here take this, so you can do it yourself at home."
"No, I couldn't," I say not taking it. "I don't even know what you did. I'd make a total mess of my face if I tried."
"Here, I'll explain," she says and proceeds to tell me exactly how much and in what order to use, and how to mix the colors to get them just right.
"Now take this," she says and pushes the box into my hand. "It's not really my color anyway."
Scott peers up from his phone once she stops talking. "Are you two done now?"
Janine stuffs the rest of her make-up back into the bag, and takes a sip of her coffee. "Sure. Do you want me to leave already?"
She says it like she's joking, but there's a deep, sad plea underneath it.
"No, we can stay for a bit," I say, stuffing the concealer she gave me into my purse. "Thanks for showing me how to fix my face, I really appreciate it."
I want to touch her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, but I don't know her well enough for that.
"Scott?" she asks.
"Whatever," he says and looks back down at his phone.
"It's such a nice day out today," she says, gazing off at the sea. "But it's a little too cold to go swimming, I think."
I shiver slightly at the thought. "Yeah, I think so too."
Scott's not joining the conversation, and I don't really know what to say to Janine, so the silence drags.
"Your face doesn't hurt too much, does it?" she asks.
I shake my head. "It's not too bad, no. But I never thought an airbag would do this much damage."
"You were pretty lucky it's not worse," Scott says. "Maybe you leaned back out of its way just in time. I've seen people with broken noses from airbags."
"Actually I leaned right into it, and it sure felt like my nose broke," I say and chuckle. But he's still staring at his phone.
Janine finishes off her coffee and sets the cup down with too much force. "I thought it'd be nice to get to know you, Gail, now that Scott's dating you. But I clearly interrupted some kind of an argument, so maybe I was wrong." She stuffs the makeup bag into her purse and pulls out a couple of dollars.
Her words hit me like a bucket of icy water. I can't believe she's saying these things; I just met her last night.
"Well, Janine, I don't think Gail's ready to meet my extended family just yet," Scott says, his words biting.
She stands up and pushes her chair back under the table. "Fine, I'll leave."
Scott gets up and calls over the waitress. "We're going too."
On the way to the car I follow a few steps behind them, feeling like a stray. In the parking lot, Janine says goodbye to me like she's never going to see me again.
"Is she always so forward?" I ask once we're in the car, wanting to break the silence that's sitting between us.
"She's been a little cut off from normal society lately," Scott says, and I know he's thinking of Louie and whatever that was all about. "But, yeah, she's always been like that."
The silence grows again, until it's sitting right over me, taking my air.
"Can't we just take it slower? Or start over?" I say. It's a lot to ask, and probably can't be done, but the words are out there, hanging in the silence.
"That works too," he finally says and reaches over and touches my thigh. "I don't think you're crazy."
I lace my fingers over his and smile. "Yeah? Because I think I really might be."
"You're not," he says.
We're in my driveway, and if I don't go into the house right away, I never will.
I kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you later."
I slide out of the car and jog to the front door, because the pull to go back is so strong I feel like it's tearing me apart. Already the world is spinning faster than I can process, longing and homesickness exploding in my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The doorbell ringing at ten on Monday morning wakes me. My first thought is that it might be Scott, but that would be stupid. He can call first now, he has my number. But will he ever call me again?
"Come on, Mom." I hear my aunt's carrying voice chiming up the stairs. "Yes, yes, we'll wait, take your time."
I forgot to call Gran yesterday, and clearly she did want to come visit. I jump out of bed, pull on a pair of yoga pants and tie my hair into a bun. The hallway smells of my aunt's thick, velvety perfume.
"Gail, good morning," she says. Her bracelets jangle as she grabs hold of Gran's arm to help her along.
"Oh my God, Gail, what happened to your face?" my cousin Alison shrieks. Alison and her sister Eve are both staring at me now, covering their mouths with both hands.
I check my reflection in the mirror, and sure enough I look like some one beat me up. The makeup Janine applied so meticulously yesterday is all blotched now, black circles popping out everywhere.
"I had a car accident," I mumble.
"Nothing broken, I trust," Gran says peering up at me. "I had expected you to come pick me up yesterday."
"I know, I'm sorry." I go stand next to my dad by the wall to let them file in.
"You're not going to work today?" I ask him.
He shakes his head, which makes the loose skin of his jowls jangle. He lost so much weight too. "I took the week off. I can't concentrate on work anymore."
Alison and Eve are holding one of Gran's arms each now, leading her toward the stairs, and my aunt is carrying the walker.
"She'll never get up those stairs with this thing," she says to my dad and me. I feel him tense beside me and I know why. The tone of my aunt's words sounds like this is all an inconvenience, that we should lay my mom out on the ground floor for visits. She doesn't mean it, my mom is her only sister, but she has the same high society air as Gran, and it usually rubs me the wrong way.
"Shouldn't you two be in school?" I ask Eve and Alison. They're both still in high school and as far as I know, classes started already.
"We wanted to come see Aunt Kathryn," Eve pouts and I'm immediately sorry for my harsh tone. But the reason for their presence cuts through my heart like a razor, and they're all three of them so full of life, so happy and boisterous, when all I want to do is lay quietly by my mom's side for the rest of the day.
"I'll go see if she's awake," my dad says and squeezes past them. I want to run after him too, but the hallway is blocked now and I've already been rude enough.
After what seems like the whole day, Gran finally manages the stairs. She's shivering all over once she reaches the landing, maybe from the strain, or maybe it's something else.
Dad already opened the drapes in my mom's room, and the breeze is blowing the white translucent curtains in and out of the open window. Mom is sitting in bed, propped up by at least five pillows.
She holds out her hand as they enter, or tries to, because she can't lift it very far off the bed.
Gran whimpers and would've collapsed had Alison and Eve not been holding her. My aunt rushes into the room and sits on my mom's bed, taking her hand and staring at her with eyes so wide they might pop from her head at any moment. She's trying not to cry, but her bottom lip is shaking so hard she can't speak either. My mom nods and closes her eyes. Dad brings a chair closer to the bed, and Eve and Alison deposit Gran into it.
"How are you feeling today, Kathy?" Gran asks, but her firm tone is brittle, like she will break at any moment.
My mom looks at Gran, such sorrow and longing in her eyes, my heart explodes in pain. It's like she's a little girl asking her mother to make it all better.
I stifle a cry by smacking both my hands across my mouth and run from the room. I can't watch it; it's bad enough watching my mom and dad together and this is her whole family. Grief grows, breeds and multiplies until it takes up the whole room, covers the whole house. I'm sitting on my bed, bent double, rocking back and forth, feeling as though the crushing weight will flatten me to nothing at any moment. My whole face aches, since I'm pressing my knuckles into my bruised nose so hard, but the pain does nothing to lighten the anguishing grief. I can't stay in this house, and I can't be alone
.
I've got my phone in my hands and I'm dialing Scott's number before I even realize what I'm doing. He can't fix this, I should stay here and face it, but the mere thought of it makes the room heave like I'm on a boat during a storm, and just hearing the ringing makes it better.
"Gail?" he asks, and it's all I can do not to burst into tears.
"I…I…"
"You what?" His tone is firm, but it sounds like he's holding his breath.
I dig my nails into my forearm, and the sharp pain brings some clarity. "I thought we could go down to the beach," I manage.
"What, right now?" he asks. "I'm working."
"I can't stay here," I say, gasping loudly as tears threaten to come. If he doesn't say yes, I just might drown in my tears and never come back.
"Alright, come down," he says.
I grab my jacket and run downstairs with my shoes still unlaced.
The urge to cry lessens as soon as I see him approaching the truck.
"Is everything alright, Gail?" he asks.
"No, but I don't want to talk about it." I close the distance between us, but I don't want to touch him, don't want him to take it the wrong way.
He brushes and strand of my hair off my face, his fingers soft and warm. "You look terrible."
I smack his arm and a smile bubbles up past my tears, tiny and out of place, but good nonetheless. "Not exactly what I wanted to hear, Scott."
He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. I rest my head against his chest, and let him hold me. He smells of grass and rain, and I could probably spend the rest of my life like this and not want for anything.
"The beach then?" he asks after awhile.
"Yes," I say. I want to tell him it's alright, that he can go back to work, but it would be a lie.
I'd like to go to the beach far from my house, the one with the broken pier, but he drives to the one we were at yesterday, and I don't argue.
School's started and it's mostly empty this early in the day. A young mother is pushing a stroller along the wooden walkway, and a few older people are strolling along the sand, but otherwise it's deserted. I take Scott's hand and lead him right to the water's edge, where the surf licks the sand.