Cinnamon Eyes

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Cinnamon Eyes Page 8

by Nell Iris


  “I do?”

  “Yes.”

  Asher’s eyes flitted between the two of us, as if watching the baton of a conductor leading an orchestra.

  “Since when?” Mr. Cross asked around a mouthful of lasagna.

  “Since today. And don’t talk with your mouth full,” I retorted and gave Asher his plate.

  “Sorry, dear,” Mr. Cross quipped before shoveling another forkful of food in his mouth.

  “Are you sassing me, Mr. Cross?” I glared at him with arms folded over my chest.

  Like a good boy, he finished chewing before answering. “Yes, dear.” And then he burst out laughing.

  Asher’s eyes were on the verge of bugging out his head as he looked at his guffawing father. “Care to fill me in what’s going on here?”

  “Your boyfriend is quite the spitfire,” Mr. Cross explained. “Eat your food, son. It’s excellent.”

  Asher looked at me, dazed and bewildered, as if he had given up on trying to make sense of what was happening in front of him. “Cory? What the fuck?”

  I grabbed my plate and joined them at the table after making sure everyone had something to drink. “Your father has something he wants to talk to you about, but we’ll do it after lunch.”

  Asher threw a quick glance at his father before leaning toward me, whispering, “He called you my boyfriend.”

  “I ain’t got cancer in the ears, son. There’s nothing wrong with my hearing,” Mr. Cross boomed and chuckled at his own joke.

  I cupped Asher’s neck and pulled him toward me. “I promise we’ll fill you in,” I said and gave him a quick—very modest—kiss, before turning my attention to the food.

  After we finished lunch and cleaned up, we sat down in the living room for our conversation.

  “Thank you, Cory,” Mr. Cross said. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  His praise—given with a voice free of its usual gruffness—was like a ray of sunshine, and happiness bloomed in my stomach.

  “My pleasure. I love cooking,” I smiled at him.

  Next to me, Asher bounced his leg and drummed out a solo on his thigh. I laid my hand on top of his, stilling his nervous movements, and tried to reassure him with a squeeze.

  “When I drove your father home yesterday, he told me something I think you should know,” I said. It was best that I started this conversation or it would never happen.

  “What’s that?” Asher asked and studied the older man, trying to reassure himself his father was okay.

  “Mr. Cross?”

  “You tell him.” The brusqueness was back, and he leaned his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

  Sighing, I filled Asher in on our conversation from the previous day, about the treatment not working, and the new drug the doctors wanted to try but that wasn’t covered by the insurance.

  “Did I forget anything?” I asked Mr. Cross when I had finished.

  “That about sums it up,” he replied without opening his eyes.

  Asher resumed drumming with his other hand. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration, and he chewed on his lower lip. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Mr. Cross opened his eyes and looked at his son with eyes burning. “No!”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Pops. Of course, I want to help.”

  “You listen to me, Asher Cross. It’s too much money.”

  “Maybe we could ask Dan if he could chip in,” Asher said as if he was thinking out loud.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?”

  “Neither of you are paying for it. You can’t afford it.”

  “How much money are we talking about here?” Asher asked.

  “Thousands of dollars every month.”

  Groaning, Asher hid his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mr. Cross grumbled.

  “There has to be something we can do,” Asher insisted.

  My hand flew to my ear, and I tugged on my lobe. I wanted to say something. I wanted to offer my money. I had more than enough. But the tension was thick, and neither of them would be susceptible to such an offer right now. It would probably be better if I suggested it in private to Asher.

  “Sorry, son, but there’s not,” Mr. Cross grunted.

  “Fuck.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “I think that’s the first time I said fuck in this house and wasn’t scolded for it. Twice.”

  “When a man’s dying, he can’t afford to hang on to stupid rules, son,” Mr. Cross said. “Or old quarrels caused by bigoted views.”

  Mr. Cross’ statement was followed by a pause, and Asher grew completely still. The drumming and nervous leg-bouncing ceased. All color drained from his beautiful olive skin, turning it ashen.

  “What are you saying, Pops?”

  Mr. Cross winced under Asher’s intense stare. “I’m saying I was a jerk. I regretted my words the moment they jumped out of my mouth, but I never found a way to take them back.”

  “You never found a way to take them back?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Instead you just pushed me away and acted like you hated me?”

  Mr. Cross confirmed Asher’s question with a grunt.

  “So all this—” Asher gestured between himself and Mr. Cross, “—hostility has been for nothing? You let me believe you hate me, let this go on for years, because you were too stubborn to say you were sorry?”

  Another grumble from Mr. Cross was all the answer Asher needed. He released my hand, jolted up from his seat, and rushed out of the house, slamming the door behind him so hard, the windows rattled.

  I let out a shuddering breath, and Mr. Cross leaned his head back as if the encounter had drained him of all his energy.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him.

  “That went well,” he muttered.

  “What did you expect?”

  “Nothing. I wouldn’t have told him if it hadn’t been for you.” There was no blame in his words. Just relief, as if this had been weighing heavily on him for a long time and I had been the catalyst to finally getting it out in the open.

  The statement enraged me. “What are you saying? That you intended to die, letting him believe you hated him?”

  He threw a thin arm over his eyes. “I didn’t think I was that important to him,” he mumbled. I could have sworn his voice trembled.

  “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought, Mr. Cross.”

  I needed to move. I stood and walked out to the kitchen, but we’d already cleaned everything and there was nothing I could focus my outrage on. Instead, I filled a glass of water and carried it back to the living room.

  “Drink this,” I ordered the old man.

  A motor of some kind started up outside, sounding like vicious, overgrown wasp, and I looked out the window, trying to identify the sound. I caught a glimpse of Asher with a large grass trimmer, taking on the overgrown lawn with determination.

  “What’s he doing?” Mr. Cross asked.

  “Mowing the lawn. I think I’ll go help him.”

  “You do that.”

  “We’ll be back in later,” I said.

  “If you say so.”

  His grunting was so dejected, completely lacking all bite, and I was torn. On one hand, I sympathized with this broken old man who was so clearly upset. But on the other hand, I was furious with him for doing this to himself and Asher when it all could have been so easily avoided.

  “I do,” was all I said. Then I followed Asher outside, found some old garden gloves and a rusty old rake, and started taking care of the clippings.

  Chapter 13

  It took a couple hours of Asher attacking the tall grass with the trimmer, and me following with the rake, collecting and dumping all the clippings on the old compost, before we were done. We brought the gear back to the garage where we cleaned it and put it back in its place. I took the opportunity to wash my hands in the si
nk and dunked my head under the faucet, rinsing away the sweat of the physical labor.

  Two warm hands gripped my waist from behind as I dried off and pulled me close. I turned off the water and leaned back into Asher’s embrace. He circled my waist and hugged me tight.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Now I am,” he rumbled.

  “I’m here for you.”

  “Oh, Cinnamon Boy. I know.”

  “Cinnamon Boy?”

  “Anyone can be ‘honey.’ Only you can be Cinnamon Boy.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and all I wanted was to scream out my happiness of being reunited with my best friend in the whole world. He rubbed his stubble against my ear, and I hummed.

  I didn’t want to go back, but we couldn’t stay here forever. “Are you ready to talk to your father?”

  “If you come with me.”

  “Always.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  We walked hand in hand into the house.

  “Pops?” Asher yelled as we closed the door behind us.

  “In here.”

  We detoured through the kitchen and gulped down some water before joining Mr. Cross in the living room. He sat in the same spot as when we’d stormed out, and his face was drawn and worried.

  Asher gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. He crossed the room in a couple long strides and sat down on the coffee table across from his father, with elbows resting on his knees.

  “Was that your way of apologizing?” he asked.

  Mr. Cross looked at his son like he hadn’t seen Asher in years. And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t see the same Asher I did, a man with the biggest sense of loyalty and capacity for love I’d ever encountered. Maybe they’d been too distant to begin with, and hostility had been the easy way out.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Yes or no, Pops.”

  Mr. Cross leaned forward and laid a trembling hand on his son’s knee. “Yes.”

  They stared each other in the eyes for several moments.

  “Okay.” Asher nodded. “I need time to process all this, but okay.”

  Mr. Cross leaned backward again. “I understand.”

  “When is your next doctor’s appointment?”

  “Two weeks,” Mr. Cross said.

  “I’ll go with you, and we’ll speak to him together.”

  “Okay.”

  I was surprised that Mr. Cross didn’t put up a fight, but if I’d read his signals right, maybe this was something he’d been waiting for.

  “And I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you will pick up and not call me names.”

  “Don’t push it, son.” The growling was back, and I had to quickly turn my head away to hide my smile from him.

  “You need anything before we leave?” Asher asked.

  Mr. Cross grunted a negative answer.

  “You have food in your freezer, Mr. Cross,” I said and looked back at father and son. They had drifter closer toward each other. Even if they were still tense, I was encouraged by the sight. “The content is written on the lid. If you take it out of the freezer the day before, it’ll be quick to heat up in the microwave. And call me when you’re running out, and I’ll make more.”

  They both looked at me like I’d hung the moon, and I squirmed. I wasn’t used to the kind of open admiration father and son showed me. I didn’t know how to handle it.

  “Okay, Pops.” Asher stood and held out his hand as he joined me. I grabbed it eagerly.

  “Call us if you need anything, Mr. Cross.”

  The old man nodded, closed his eyes, and waved us away. “Yeah, yeah.” We turned to leave, but he stopped us. “Cory?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Thank you for coming back. You were just what I needed. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, Asher needs you, too.”

  I swallowed. Never in my life had I expected to hear something like that. “Thank you, Mr. Cross,” I choked out.

  * * * *

  Neither of us spoke in the car on the way back. After pulling out from his father’s driveway, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his thigh, and I enjoyed the feeling of his muscles flexing under my palm as he drove.

  Just as he parked out back, my phone went off. I pulled it out of my pocket and groaned out loud when I saw the caller.

  Shit. With everything that had been going on, I’d completely forgotten today was Friday.

  “I gotta take this,” I said, and answered my call. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Cory? Are you well?” Her voice was high-pitched and close to hysteria, and I wiggled my hand free from Asher’s grip to pinch my earlobe.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, but I was busy and forgot to call you.”

  She drew in a breath but didn’t say anything. The clicking of the cooling engine felt like gunshots to my nerves that had gone on high alert as soon as I’d heard my mother’s voice.

  “Busy doing what, Cory?”

  I twisted my head and looked at Asher. Just the sight of him made me feel better, and I reached out, needing to feel his skin. He gave me a crooked smile and grabbed my hand without hesitation.

  “Busy doing what, Cory?” she repeated when I didn’t answer. “What was so important you didn’t remember to call your own mother?”

  Asher winced. She was so loud, I could tell he’d heard her every word. He lifted our hands and pressed a kiss on top of mine. That tiny, but significant, gesture made up my mind.

  “I spent the afternoon with Asher and his father. I meant to call, but something unexpected happened. We just got back to Asher’s place.” I laid it all out there. If this was going in the direction I hoped, I needed to tell my parents about him sooner or later, and I chose sooner.

  “Asher? Asher Cross?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Why are you spending time with…him?” She hissed out the last word as if it was the most distasteful thing she’d ever heard.

  I hunched over, instantly drained by her spitefulness and lack of understanding. “I needed to see him.”

  “Why?” she insisted.

  “Because during our sessions, Dr. Montgomery encouraged me to do something that would make me happy. Asher always made me happy, so I went to see him.”

  Asher wiggled his hand out of mine and put it on my back. Over my clothes at first, but after just a moment, he found his way under my shirt and pressed his hot palm against my knobby spine.

  A jolt of heat rushed through me.

  “And you thought it was a good idea to go without consulting me? Or your father?”

  “I knew what your opinion would be.”

  Asher dragged his calloused fingertips up and down my back, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from whimpering in pleasure. His hand on my skin kept me grounded, just what I needed in this conversation with my mother.

  “Well, I have never…” If she had been the pearl-wearing type, she would have clutched them right about now. “I cannot believe you would do this to us, Cory.”

  I slammed my hand against the dashboard, the sound reverberating in the car. “You cannot believe what, exactly? That I, for the first time in my entire life, did something for me, without thinking about you or Father or The Senator? Something that would make me happy. Is that really so terrible?”

  During my outburst, Asher slid his hand down to my ass and nudged me, indicating he wanted me to move forward. Then he climbed over the center console and sat down behind me. I leaned back, hiding my face in his neck as he wound his arms around my chest.

  “You know very well how we feel about that boy, Cory.”

  “And you know very well how I feel about that boy, Mother.”

  “Why are you being this selfish?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m the one being selfish? My entire life, I’ve lived according to your rules, and I’ve felt like shit. Shit.” I spat out the last word, so tired of them I could scream. “And now that I’m finally doing som
ething for me…I’m the one being selfish?”

  Asher rubbed his stubble against my temple, rocking us back and forth in the seat. Without his support, I would have crumbled a long time ago.

  “After everything we have done for you, this is how you treat us?”

  “I can’t believe you, Mother.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Her voice grew chillier for every word, just like every time we had an argument. My mother was not a warm person. She came up with solutions to perceived problems and expected everyone to follow her instructions to the letter. Without question.

  “You’ve had your little eat-pray-love-moment,” she emphasized the expression with a spiteful tone, “and now it’s time for you to come back home. I’ll talk to your father and The Senator and let them know you’re ready to go back to work. They will know who to call.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean I’m not going back,” I said.

  “Don’t be foolish. We’re not letting you throw away your education.”

  “Mother. Would you listen for once in your life?”

  She harrumphed in my ear and reminded me of Mr. Cross and his grunts.

  “Asher has been my best friend for my entire life. All my happy memories are connected to him.” I inhaled and pressed my lips against his neck. Brushed them back and forth over his stubble. Shivering at the prickliness.

  The intense connection between us made me brave enough to leap. Knowing he’d be there to catch me if I fell.

  “I’ve been in love with him forever. I’m not giving him up this time. Last time, I had no choice but to do as I was told. This time is different.”

  She let out an indignant noise and drew a deep breath. I knew exactly what it meant: she was gearing up for round two. The familiar sound made me tense up, and I started shaking.

  “Hang up, Cory,” Asher whispered in my ear, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

  I had never been the kid who had stomped to his bedroom in defiance of his parents. They would never have let me get away with it. On the contrary, I’d always been the obedient one, and I couldn’t break free of it even now.

  Asher pried my phone out of my tight grip. Removing a ten-ton boulder off my shoulders.

 

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