by Laura Lee
“Jesusmotherofshit!” I shout. “Where did you come from?”
His face is expressionless. “How are you feeling?”
I close my door and pull the towel more tightly around my body. “Humiliated.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What do you have to be embarrassed about?”
Everything? I decide to narrow it down a little bit. “You know…for being all belligerent and needing a rescue last night…subjecting you to projectile vomiting…” I gesture toward the hallway. “And for having to see all that shit with Cybil and her friends. I get the feeling you’re not used to hanging around people as trashy as we are.”
“Stop,” he growls.
I’m startled by the venom in his tone. “Stop what?”
He stands up and braces his hands around my biceps. “Stop putting yourself down. Lumping yourself into the same category as that woman you live with. I barely know you but I do know you’re nothing like her.”
His nostrils flare as he stares down at me. I’m suddenly very aware how little fabric stands between us. He seems to come to the same realization as his eyes travel down to my chest and back up again.
I gasp when he slides his thumb over my bottom lip. “Gavin—”
“Shut the hell up, Kat.”
His mouth crashes into mine before I have a chance to protest. Waves of pleasure rush over me, making me realize how much I missed his touch. His kiss is bruising, so hard it’s almost painful, but at the same time, I can feel his restraint. He’s communicating with me through his actions. He’s angry with me; that much is obvious. But despite this, he’s telling me that I’m safe with him. That he would never hurt me. That I can trust him. I never knew a kiss could be so expressive until now.
He pulls back, leaving us both panting for breath. “What is it about you, Kat? I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You admitted that you feel it too, so why did you leave?”
I avert my eyes, unable to hold his penetrating gaze. “I told you, Gavin. I don’t do this.”
He lifts my chin with his finger. “Don’t do what?”
“Date,” I shrug. “Relationships. It’s too complicated. We fucked. Don’t romanticize this and look for something that isn’t there.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. This thing between us…it’s more than just chemistry.”
“It’s not,” I deny. “That’s not how things work with me.”
“Why not? What happened to you? Is this because of a guy?”
If only it were that simple. I sigh as I open the door. “Trust me, Sparkles. You don’t want to know what made me who I am today. I’m damaged goods and that’s the only information you need. If you knew what was good for you, you’d forget we ever met. I know this is a small town so let’s just agree to walk the other way if we happen to bump into each other again. Do you think you can do that?” I open the door wider, silently inviting him to leave.
He looks at his watch. “I started my new job yesterday; I have an hour before I have to be there so I’ll leave for now. I have a really busy week so I’ll give you a few days, but this conversation isn’t over.”
I groan. “Gavin, it really is. There’s nothing else to say.”
He nods toward the plastic bag that’s perched on my wobbly old desk. “I ran out and got some things to help with your hangover. We’ll talk later, Kat.”
I peek inside the bag as he walks away and see a bottle of ibuprofen, Gatorade, and a greasy breakfast sandwich. The hangover trifecta. I throw on some clothes, take a couple of the pills, and eat. As annoyed as I am by Gavin’s persistence, I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. I’ve barely finished my sandwich and already feel much better.
I reach under the mattress and grab my journal. I started seeing a court-mandated therapist after everything went down freshman year. I was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing with everyone—including her—so Dr. Gibbons suggested that I keep a journal whenever I feel the need to talk. If you haven’t already figured it out, I have trust issues; therefore, I don’t openly share my feelings which she says is unhealthy. I thought it was a bunch of psychobabble at first, but writing my thoughts onto a piece of paper has actually been quite cathartic. I even wound up trusting her over time, enough to share some pages during our sessions.
I find an empty spot and grab a pen. I sit cross-legged on my worn mattress, pouring my thoughts and feelings onto the paper. Before I know it, I’ve written seven pages about leaving the foster system, meeting Gavin, getting fired and subsequently being rescued by Gavin, along with a list of local places that I need to check, to see if they’re hiring. I look back through what I’ve written and count five pages dedicated to Sparkles and how he makes me feel both terrified and electrified. I’ve never met someone like him—someone who makes me feel so raw and vulnerable, yet safe. It’s confusing as hell; hence, the lengthy journal entry.
I check the time and decide to head over to Perk Up to grab my final paycheck. Dylan should be on shift right now which is much better than the thought of facing Marilyn. I grab my purse and head out into the kitchen to refill my water bottle before taking off.
“Mornin’, Baby Girl,” Cybil mumbles as she sips her coffee.
I take a moment to look her over as she leans against the counter of our small galley kitchen. Her bleached hair sits in a messy top knot and she’s wearing a pastel-colored sports bra with tight matching capris. She looks a little tired but surprisingly good. Sporty. What the hell? Cybil doesn’t do sporty. “Hey, what are you doing up so early?”
She smirks. “Most people would consider ten o’clock late.”
“True,” I agree. “But most people don’t keep schedules like you do.” I can’t remember the last time she was awake before noon.
She lifts a delicate shoulder. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “That’s not what it looked like when I came home last night.”
She pulls a zippered hoodie over her shoulders. “The coke was Mandy’s, not mine. I haven’t touched the hard stuff since Marcus and I started seeing each other. Like I said, new leaf. I’m trying to be better.”
I give her a doubtful look. “We’ve all heard that before, Cybil.” I glance down and notice that she’s also wearing brand new running shoes. “What’s with the new clothes, Cyb? Since when do you go for the fresh from yoga class look?”
Cybil runs her hands down her sides. “It’s cute, right? Marcus took me shopping. He said all the girls from his club wear clothes like this when they’re not working.” She turns around, giving me a view of her rock-solid butt. “Plus these pants make my ass look fantastic, don’t they? Marcus is surrounded by twenty-year-old tits and ass every night. I need to be able to keep up. My body isn’t what it used to be.”
Ah, that explains it. “Please, Cybil, you look amazing and you know it. If Marcus can’t see that, then leave him.”
She releases a lyrical laugh. “Oh, darling daughter, you have so much to learn about men. Especially men like Marcus.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I have no desire to learn anything about men like Marcus.”
“I have to work damn hard to look like this at my age, Katherine. Marcus is used to being surrounded by beauty. He wouldn’t want to provide for me unless I can look just as good, if not better than those girls that work for him. You’ll see when you get pregnant one day and you have to watch in horror as your body changes.”
I stiffen as the words leave her mouth, waiting for her to realize what she has just said to me. Three…two…one…and there it is! Her eyes widen for only a second, but it’s enough to know she realizes what she has done.
“Oh, Baby Girl—”
I hold my hand up. “Don’t, Cybil. We agreed to never talk about that shit again and you know it!”
Wow, she actually manages to look remorseful. “I know, honey, and I’m sorry. I’m really, truly sorry. I guess I forgot for a minute.”
>
My fists clench. “How nice for you…that you can just forget. You see, I don’t have that luxury. It’s rather hard to forget being forced to deliver a baby that isn’t nearly ready to enter the world. It’s hard to forget how she felt growing inside of me…feeling every little kick and turn, only to watch as she takes her final breath and stops moving entirely. It’s rather hard to forget how she came to be in the first place!” I swipe angrily at the tears that are pouring down my face.
Cybil grabs my arm. “Katherine, I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring it up. I wasn’t thinking!”
I pull away from her. “That’s your problem, Mother. You don’t think! At least not about anything that matters.” I throw my purse over my shoulder and head for the door. “Thanks for the lovely chat, Cybil. I’ll see you later.”
I slam the door and walk toward my parking spot. My empty parking spot. Fuck. With everything going on this morning, I completely forgot about my Civic being stuck at the bar. To make matters worse, it’s starting to rain. Of course it’s starting to rain. I take a fortifying breath, pull my hood over my head and begin the three-mile-trek to collect my car.
“DO YOU HAVE A NAME PICKED OUT?” the ultrasound tech, Susan, asks as she applies warm gel to my protruding stomach.
I shake my head. “No…um, I’m giving the baby up for adoption.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Oh, I’m sorry for bringing it up, sweetie; I must have missed that on your file.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I mean, I’m okay with my decision...who’s capable of being a good parent at fifteen anyway? I found a really great couple that have been trying to conceive for six years. The adoption will be open so I’ll get to see pictures as he or she grows up. I just want what’s best for the baby. In my situation, that’s not me.”
Susan squeezes my hand. “This is a very brave thing you’re doing, Katherine. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She perks up as the machine whirls to life. “Are you ready to do this? You’re twenty weeks now so I’m going to take a peek and make sure everything is on track with the little peanut. You’ll see me taking some measurements and such. If you’d like, I can explain what I’m doing along the way.”
“Sure.”
“Provided baby cooperates, I should be able to determine the sex as well. Would you like to know?”
“Do most people want to know?”
“It depends,” she replies. “Some do; some like to be surprised. Do you know if the adoptive parents have a preference?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe you should tell me and then they can decide if they want to know or not.”
Susan smiles again. “Okay, honey. We can do that. Just relax while I check baby out and we’ll go from there.”
I wipe a rogue tear from my cheek as I slip out of my daydream. After getting my car, I drove straight to the one place where I can think clearly. With no access road, the only way of getting here is by leaving your car on the side of the highway and hiking down an embankment. I’ve been here hundreds of times and not once have I encountered another person. It’s a small, nondescript piece of land that becomes rather ominous during a storm, but still, it’s my own little piece of paradise in this Podunk town.
As I sit on the rocky beach, thumbing my heart-shaped locket, I finally feel like I can breathe. The waves pound angrily against the shore, as seagulls swoop and dive for their next meal. I close my eyes and inhale deeply—the smell of brine mixed with evergreens fills my nose. I open my eyes and stare at the whitecaps out in the distance. As much as I hate living in a small town, where everyone knows your business, I don’t think I could ever stray too far from the water. The ocean, in all its vastness, has a way of making me feel like any problem I’m having is insignificant.
I found this spot one week after giving birth to Amelia…to my daughter. Even though she was conceived in the most brutal way, I loved her with all my heart from the moment I knew she existed. I was giving her to a family that could provide a better life because I loved her so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about how different my own life could have been, had my mother done the same.
When Amelia passed away in my arms, I held her tiny red, alien-like body to my chest, and promised her that I would do right by her. She never had a chance to live so I would lay her to rest in the one place that to me, held so much beauty and serenity and…vitality. I held her ashes in the small, biodegradable urn as I walked into the water up to my waist. As a wave came into shore and made its way back out again, I tipped the box over and released her remains into the sea. I remained motionless as she was carried out with the surf, officially becoming one with nature.
I sat on this beach for hours afterward and cried until there was nothing left inside of me. I haven’t cried a single tear over her since…until today. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t seriously consider joining her that day. I almost walked back in so many times that I lost count, but in the end, I couldn’t take my own life. I couldn’t dishonor her memory like that. Still, with the pain being too much to bear, I became a shell of my former self, merely existing in a haze from that point on. I numb myself with liquor and men because coping with reality is too hard. Let’s face it; growing up with my mother and in the system caused me to be in survival mode from early on, but since that day, it’s been on a much greater scale. I gave up caring about what anyone else does or thinks.
My only goal in life is to do what I have to, in order to get out of this place for good. Through a lot of hard work, I’ve managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA, making me eligible for scholarships. College is my one-way ticket out of here so it’s the one thing I do give a shit about. Nothing and no one is going to stand in my way. Not even a sexy, sweet, enigmatic man that I can’t stop thinking about.
I’VE SPENT THE PAST FOUR DAYS pounding the pavement looking for a job. I’ve tried coffee stands, souvenir shops, grocery stores, hell, even a place that sells fudge. With every business I went to, the response was the same: Sorry, we’re not hiring during the off-season. That’s one downfall of living in a beach community; the job possibilities are slim when tourism is low. At least for someone with limited availability.
My senior year begins the day after tomorrow. I’ve enrolled in several AP classes so this year will require more of my time than ever before. My guidance counselor helped me select the best course load for scholarship applicants, but getting into a university is pointless if I don’t have funding to pay for it. None of this would be a problem if I didn’t have to worry about housing expenses when Cybil moves out. I need to find a job that offers a swing shift if I’m going to fully support myself, which unfortunately limits the amount of time I’d have to sleep. My alternatives, going back into the system until graduation, or taking Marcus up on his offer, are not something I want to consider. Lack of sleep is definitely the better choice.
I’m beat as I walk through the front door and more than a little irritated to find that I’m not alone. Marcus, along with another man around his age, and a much younger woman are sitting on the couch.
“Hello, Katherine,” Marcus purrs.
I ignore him and walk to the kitchen to refill my water bottle. It’s a trick that I’ve learned over the years; hydrate well and you don’t feel the hunger pangs nearly as much. As I turn to head into my room I’m surprised to find Marcus right next to me.
“Excuse me,” I say with annoyance.
“What’s the hurry, Katherine?” he asks. “Come join us; I want you to meet some people.”
I roll my eyes. “No, thanks. I’m really tired so I’m just going to hole up in bed for the night.”
His eyes roam over my body. “Feel like having company?”
I gawk at him. “Excuse me?!”
Marcus laughs loudly. “I meant for conversation, Katherine. I feel like we should get to know each other.”
“No, thanks,” I grumble. “Where’s Cybil anyway?”
“She got a call from a client about a half hour ago. She won’t be back for a while.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “A client? She still has those?”
He smirks. “It’s business, Katherine. Trust me when I say your mother is very good at what she does. And she’s paid handsomely for it. What’s more, she enjoys it. Who am I to stop her? It’s how we met after all.”
I hold my hand up, prompting him to stop with the overshare. I jerk my chin to the couple in the living room currently trying to paw each other’s clothes off. “Who are they?”
“That’s a business colleague of mine, Brandon. The lovely lady on his lap is one of my dancers, Amber.”
I quirk a brow. “I thought you said you weren’t in that kind of business, Marcus.”
“Amber is here of her own free will. She and Brandon…date on occasion.”
“Do you think they could move their date away from my couch?”
He ignores my question and leans into me. “Why don’t you come over and socialize for a bit?”
With distaste, I look toward the living room. “No, I’m good. Really.” I look at the clock on the microwave. “In fact, I forgot that I actually have to be somewhere.”
“Really?” he challenges. “I thought you said you were tired.”
“I am,” I reply. “But I made plans to watch crappy reality TV all night with a friend of mine. I’ll probably be too tired to drive home, so I can just crash there.”
“Would this be a male friend?”
I twist the cap off my bottle and take a sip. “I really don’t think that’s any of your business.” I start to walk around him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. I’m already late.”
“Have fun, Katherine,” I hear him call as I close the door.
I get in my car as fast as possible and peel out of the complex. Shit! Where the hell am I going to go? I can’t afford to drive around too much. My tank is only half-full and I don’t have any money in my budget to fill it more than once a month.
I drive aimlessly for about ten minutes or so before pulling into a driveway and shifting into park. I look up at the charming little home and wonder how I got here. This was never my intended destination but I’m sitting here like an idiot nonetheless.