The NOVA Trilogy Boxed Set

by Jayce, Aven

  ***

  My grey MINI Cooper is parked behind Evan’s old SAAB when I return to his place at dusk. Mera calls my MINI a girly car, which is fine with me, since I’m a girl.

  The car was a graduation gift from my dad, and probably my favorite gift from anyone, ever. I appreciate everything he does for me. He also placed a generous amount of money in my bank account so that I wouldn’t have to struggle getting my feet off the ground after college, while also trying to survive in a new city.

  My father’s a savvy man with two degrees who has made wise business decisions. My mother is not. I believe one of the reasons he left was because my mother took our family into debt and was about to declare bankruptcy. I was young, and when he contacted us again thirteen years later, he was truly heartbroken by how we had been living. He’s still trying to buy our love with outrageous gifts. Sometimes it helps us rise above what we had to withstand during our childhood with our mother, while at other times his gifts make me feel guilty. That is, until my brother reminds me that our father enjoys buying us things. It’s his delight, and if it makes him happy we shouldn’t feel awkward about it, he says. I understand that, but what I really need from him is to listen to me. It means the world to me when he wants to hear about my life. Our conversations fill me with love, unlike his gifts of material objects.

  Luckily, Evan’s Saab isn’t blocking me in, so there’s no need to go inside until I pick up my things on Saturday. With the bag that I had packed earlier in my backseat, I head toward Mera’s place.

  The Auction Space apartments are the essence of new urban living. The area is young and hip, just perfect for Mera and her outgoing party girl lifestyle. She originally rented the place because it’s just a few blocks away from Busch Stadium, completely appealing for all of her boyfriends who were too drunk to drive home after a game. When her jock phase ended she decided to stay in her apartment, based on her position at The Pillsman Center. As an events manager, she’s one of a handful of business degree graduates organizing concerts for the city. I’ve seen some great shows for free, thanks to her. The arena is within walking distance, as is Gateway Arch trail, where the two of us jog three days a week. There’s also Lacledes Landing for dinner and a few dance clubs in the area. It’s the perfect location for any twenty-something-year-old wanting to be close to the up and coming downtown scene.

  Mera’s waiting for me as I pull into the lot behind her building. She smiles and points to her tandem spot. I park the MINI, and she runs over to give me a hug before I can even step out of the driver’s seat.

  “I’m so excited that you’re staying with me for a couple of days. I already picked up the pizza and I’ve got cold beers in the fridge.”

  “Thanks, beautiful,” I say, stepping out of the car. “After I get settled into my new place we’ll have a sleepover, which reminds me; Evan believes that girls talk about their first time at slumber parties.”

  “What? I guess if you’re still having slumber parties when you’re like thirteen or older, maybe, but I can’t imagine that coming up at such a young age. Kissing, yes, but penetration? No way. Not my friends, at least.”

  “I know, right? The last time I went to a sleepover I was still playing with dolls. Evan has such strange ideas about women.”

  “Well, at our slumber party this evening, you can tell me all about your first time if you’d like.”

  I smile and take Mera’s hand as we walk into the building.

  ***

  “I see that you’ve splurged on some new tchotchkes since the last time I was here,” I say, placing my bag down in the entryway as I scan her place with an astute eye. Mera had a bad spending habit when we were sharing a place during undergraduate school, and I want to make sure she hasn’t fallen back into those ways. In the middle of the room is a new violet colored sofa that’s very modern and chic.

  “The IKEA Store,” she says, walking over to the piece of furniture. “IKEA as well,” she adds, pointing to a long line of white bookshelves.

  “And all the little knick-knacks?”

  “The online Anthropologie site,” she gleams. “And I didn’t break the bank. I just want to have some things that are a step above a college student’s. I was tired of my parents’ hand-me-down furniture and all that junk I bought a few years ago.”

  “Will you let me know if you start spending beyond your budget so that I can step in and save you?”

  “Of course, now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  I slip out of my shoes and enjoy the smooth maple hardwood floors against my bare feet. The apartment is cozy, and she has the lights down low.

  “I smell lilies. You know they’re my favorite flower.”

  “On the counter. I thought they’d make you feel at home.”

  “Yes, and they look wonderful against the black granite. What a nice contrast. I always love coming here. It’s such a different world from that old place I’ve been living in.”

  “That old place has character. That’s why you moved into it in the first place,” Mera says, flipping the pizza box open, pulling out a slice. She places it on a paper plate and slides it across the island, then takes a piece for herself and grabs two beers out of the fridge.

  “You’re a great host. Warm pizza and a cold beer, my life is complete.”

  “So how are things with the shrink?”

  “She’s okay. We talk a lot about my brother, and my mother, but not at all about my dad.”

  “Why not?”

  “We just haven’t gotten that far into my life, I guess. Plus, Dr. Rosen and my father know each other. He hasn’t given me any details as to how they met, and I haven’t really cared enough to ask. I guess I’ll bring it up next time we talk, but for now my relationship with my mother seems to be the biggest issue. My therapist likes to connect my lack of commitment, as well as my ‘love em and leave em’ attitude, with my childhood.”

  “Well duh, your father didn’t have to spend a fortune in office visits for you to figure that out.” Mera glances over and shakes her head, frowning. “So, you do talk about the current issues you have with men?”

  “Yes, all the time. Although I haven’t told her about Evan or why I decided to leave him, so I guess I’ll have a lot to talk about at our next session.”

  I look down at the beautiful dark counter, and over to the maple kitchen cabinets. Mera’s dishtowels, toaster, tea kettle, and microwave are all light blue, while the walls are pure white. She must have ordered them from an online store. I’ve never come across that color at any retailer. I look around the space again, admiring what’s hers, and thinking about what I’d like to have in my new place someday.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “How quickly our lives have changed in just a couple of years. From the dorm rooms, to the tiny apartments, to all of this.” I wave my hand from the kitchen over to the living room. “I hope my new place is just as amazing as yours.”

  Mera takes another piece of pizza out of the box and sends a thankful smile my way. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “I can’t wait to see it myself. It’s being painted right now, and updated, whatever that means.”

  “Isn’t the building new?”

  “No, it’s an older building, but it was remodeled a few years ago, so I don’t know why they need to renovate it again. It’s a bit weird if you ask me.”

  Mera takes two more beers out of the fridge and places them on the counter. I’m only halfway through my first, not including the two beers I had earlier during lunch.

  “Today has been one of those perfect days; therapy, lunch outdoors, sex, walk to campus, modeling, beer, pizza, and an evening with my best friend.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, except for the sex and modeling part.” Mera sits, her long bangs falling into her eyes as she takes another bite of pizza. “Tell me more about the shrink, and then you can tell me about Evan,” she demands with a mouthful of food.

  “Not Evan first?”

&
nbsp; “No, I’m not drunk enough to discuss how you can always get breakup sex to work for you. My relationships end with a fight, not a fuck. It’s too odd of a concept to process sober. Shrink first.”

  “Okay, but my family seems far stranger to discuss sober than my sex life.” I place a second piece of pizza onto my plate and take another gulp of beer. “At my last session we started with my mother’s lack of patience, moved into broken bones, and ended with more abuse.”

  Mera turns and looks at me, her face confused and hesitant. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard any stories about broken bones.”

  “Well, I can only remember bits and pieces.”

  “Whatever you want to share, I’m always here to listen,” she flashes a genuine smile and lightly touches my hand.

  “Thanks, it’s amazing that you can stand to listen to me ramble on about my past for so many years. Most people would have told me to shut the fuck up by now.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not most people, and I know you would do the same for me.”

  “True.” I pause for a moment, putting my beer on the counter. I look across at Mera and admire her gorgeous blue eyes. I’ve been looking into those eyes for years, and I still worship their light color against her dark hair. What a beautiful woman and a heartbreaker. She’s been proposed to twice, has dated three men all at the same time, been stalked by more than one ex, and has a black book the size of a novel. Her frankness for life and relationships has helped me survive a few wrong turns along my way to adulthood.

  “Your eyes match your appliances,” I finally say.

  “So you’ve discovered my latest obsession with baby blue.” Mera stands up and turns the top of her jeans down, revealing a light blue thong. “I have on a matching bra too,” she says with a giant grin.

  “How sophisticated. That’s a definite step up from your last obsession with Hello Kitty lingerie.”

  “Come on Sophia, guys loved that shit. They would always get super hard whenever I walked out of the bedroom wearing those sexy things. It was like they were about to make out with a thirteen-year-old, a fantasy come true.”

  “Yeah, that’s because Hello Kitty is for thirteen-year-olds.”

  “Okay. Fine. But I do look good now, right?”

  “Absolutely. You look amazing,” I say reassuringly. She does look incredible and I’m surprised she’s not dating anyone at the moment. “So, Dr. Rosen and I discussed my mother, the way she ignored us when we were little, and the times I felt abused by her. I guess I’ve always been on my own, even as a toddler.”

  “That’s why you’re such a strong person today. You did everything yourself, from cooking, to cleaning, to paying the bills, and maintenance of the house; that is, until your father arrived back on the scene to help out. By that time your personality was formed, although, I have a feeling you’ve always been a stubborn goat.”

  “Well, the good news is that with my required independence, I’ll never want to get married to a guy that expects me to be a stay at home mom while he’s out bringing home the bacon.”

  “Actually Soph, that’s probably exactly who you should be with, just think about it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The morning sun warms the side of my face, prodding my eyes to open. I hear Mera in the living room as she picks up her keys on her way out of the apartment. It must be around eight. She’s on her way to work and once again I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I just left a halfway decent guy because I’m a commitment-a-phobe, and now I have no plans until the big move takes place on Saturday. Think of this time as a vacation, Sophia.

  “Why do I need a vacation? Shit, I have to get a job, or something,” I grumble, and pull the white comforter over my head while the scent of Tide detergent drifts through Mera’s sheets. She’s such a neat freak, obsessed with clean scents and tidy rooms. The comforter is too thin to block the sun from my face, and I decide to get out of bed before I roast under the covers. I push the sheets down to my legs and lay flat on my back, allowing time for my body to catch up with my mind.

  Mera’s guest bedroom is minimal. The desk, swivel chair, computer, lamp, bed, and side table are all white. It looks elegant, yet sterile against the maple flooring and large window. It’s peaceful in an odd, psychiatric ward kind of way. At some point during the night, Mera must have brought the lilies from the kitchen in and placed them on the desk. They’re beginning to wilt after only one day of enjoyment, most likely because of the Indian summer heat wave.

  My bag rests on top of the Kilim rug that used to reside in the apartment we shared back in Philly. Mera’s mother gave it to us as an apartment-warming gift. I christened it with drunken vomit the first night we had it in our place. Mera welcomed it to the household on the second evening while fucking on it with her boyfriend. It took us days to get all the stains out. We eventually named him Ken, as we were known to name every object in our place during that time. Now he looks lonely and timeworn, being placed in a colorless room only to fade away in the bright sunlight to a pale semblance of his former self.

  There’s a low moan coming from the other room and I wonder if Mera really left, or if someone else is in the apartment. I hear it again. A woman’s whimper, a pure deprival of pleasure, but it’s not Mera’s groan.

  “Do you want more?” a voice asks.

  Where is that coming from? I sit up and take a step onto Ken, peeking out into the empty living room. Mera’s definitely not home.

  “Keep it up.”

  It must be the neighbors. I’m surprised I can hear them through the walls. I’ll have to tell Mera that she doesn’t have as much privacy as she thinks she does.

  “Oh. Yes!”

  I listen to the grunts and moans. Morning sex has never been my thing, but if I’m not the one being smothered with bad breath, it’s kind of hot.

  My phone sounds just when the wall starts knocking from the bed next door. They’re really getting it on now. Pulling my phone out of my bag I see a text from Mera.

  GET UP. COFF IN KITCH.

  I smile, leaving the love-fest to head over to the kitchen for my morning fix. My first sip instantly satisfies my needs, with the caramel spice creamer adding the perfect touch to the lively morning exercise routine that’s happening two rooms over. I head back to the bedroom with a mug of coffee and the morning newspaper that Mera left on the counter.

  A muffled voice comes through the wall, “Oh yes, yes!”

  “You just said that three minutes ago!” I yell back. There’s laughter as the bedsprings start to squeak, and the bed thumps the wall once again. I guess they don’t mind having an audience. It makes me miss Evan a little, although I suppose it’s not Evan that I miss, but rather having a little fun with someone. Mera and I chatted long into the night about him and another failed relationship, if you’d call it that. I tried to explain my need for freedom, privacy, and not feeling smothered, but she wasn’t buying any of it. She knows full well that all I want is to be wholeheartedly adored and loved by someone, and I can’t have total freedom or privacy if I’m searching for that as well.

  “You love it don’t you? You want more. You want my whole body inside of you.”

  That sounds painful. The junk that people say to one another during sex is unbelievable, and I’m just as guilty as the next person. I sit upright on the bed with my back against the wall and my coffee in both hands. I place the paper next to me and continue listening. Hearing people fuck is nothing new to me, I used to hear Mera on a daily basis, and I’ve watched my share of porn over the years.

  There’s plenty of mumbling and grunting over the next five minutes. I wonder how long it will last, and if I should get up and take a shower, or join them by pleasuring myself. The voices and quickening thumps of the bed from the other room are a definite turn-on. Give it to me. I want more. Harder. Oh yes.

  I leave the paper on the bed, pick up my bag, and head for the bathroom to take a shower. Mera stocks her guest bathroom with plenty of
toiletries for guests, including items for her dates, since she never allows them into her master bath. She’s the type of woman who is open and flashy with her body, but fiercely guards her privacy. I’ve never been in there myself, but as far as I’m concerned a bathroom’s a bathroom, and I feel no need to wander in there as if she’s hiding something from me.

  Looking into the mirror I think about my father’s eyes. My brother has my mother’s blue eyes and blond hair while I have my father’s features, reddish brown eyes with deep brown locks. As a child my brother teased that I was the mailman’s daughter, until my father returned and my family was reminded of the striking resemblance between the two of us. I’m tall and lanky, like his side of the family. He often tells me that I look like his mother and although I’ve only seen photographs of her, I hope he’s right. I want to have the good genes, and my mother and her siblings are all short and plump, but I know my days are numbered. You can’t be the size you were in high school forever.

  My phone rings while I’m opening the tube of toothpaste. I place the cap on the counter and reach into my bag for the phone. It’s Evan.

  “Hey Ev, why are you calling me so early?”

  “Hi. I just wanted to see how you’re doing and if you’ve changed your mind.”

  I let out a sigh. “Really? Do we need to go over this again? I mean, haven’t we already discussed everything?”

  Evan laughs. I hear his lighter flick a few times as he tries to light his cigarette. Finally there’s a slight inhale of air coming from the other end.

  “When did you start smoking again?”

  “You know I’ve always smoked.”

  “Yeah, but only after sex.”

  “Well that’s what I called to talk to you about.”