by Denise Muniz
A tear escaped his face. I reached out to wipe it from his cheek but he grabbed my wrist, pulled it to his chest and smiled. “You’re a wonderful woman. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Well, you did raise me.”
We both chuckled.
His face grew serious again. “Becca, I lied to you,” he said, straight out.
The lump in my throat became difficult to swallow. “Lied to me about what?”
“About your mother.”
I didn’t get it. He’d just said that she left when I was young. I already knew that, so what could he have lied about? Honestly, I wanted to talk about him and his health, not about my mother.
He had a trail of wet on his cheeks, but no more tears. “Remember the week we moved here?”
I thought back to that very day. It was basic and boring, a lot of moving. I nodded.
“Remember the last time you asked me about your mother?”
As I got older, I spoke less and less about my mother. But the one constant I never gave up on was if she ever wrote to us, if she ever tried to contact us, if she knew where we were now and that we’d moved. I didn’t want to know of her, but curiosity left me weak. I remember moving in, being so fucking bored and pissed. Dad said this would be our last move but I didn’t believe him. Instead of arguing, I just let it show. I didn’t want to do shit. I walked around like a zombie after unpacking some of our things. I was outside, looking up to the sky all the time.
One day, I was walking around the town, or down the block, I should say. I passed a house not too far from mine. There were a couple of boys outside, very cute boys, but I was the awkward chick that nobody wanted to know back at my other schools so I didn’t bother to let myself be noticed too much. But then again, I was new. One of them stood out the most. He was a hot boy, but looked like one of those bad boys that you knew if given the chance he would break your heart. His hair was slightly long as it passed his forehead and he was wearing a black t-shirt with blue shorts that passed his knees. When he laughed he had a set of dimples. I’d never seen that on any guy before. Anyway, he was sitting outside a house when a woman in an apron and a tray full of cookies came out. All of the badass boys were salivating over them and I couldn’t help but chuckle. After placing the tray on the floor she turned toward the hot boy and kissed the top of his head. That little gesture made me think of my mom. Where was she? Did she know we were here? Was she thinking about me now? What would she be doing if she were here with us?
The next night, we ate spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and I asked my dad a string of questions that had been bothering me since. He responded with the same answers; he didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know we were here because she hadn’t contacted us at all, and he was hoping she was thinking about me. But I never asked him what would she be doing if she were here with us. I told myself that night that I should just stop hoping that I’d get to see my mother one day. She obviously didn’t care about me, so why should I care about her? I think my heart turned to rock that day, for her at least.
That was eight years ago.
“Yeah, what about it?” I asked him, still not sure where he was going with this.
He brought his hands over his mouth and dragged them down to his chin, stroking his beard that had grown a lot while he’d been gone. He liked the way it grew out, so he kept it, only trimming it from time to time. “She…she knew where we lived, before moving here.” His voice was but a whisper, but it was loud to my ears.
I was stunned. Shock. Surprised. “Why tell me this now, Dad?”
He didn’t bother to look up. He was ashamed, and he should be, hiding this from me. “Because you need to know.”
I stand up and start to pace back and forth in his tiny room. I needed to calm down and relax. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. Why was I getting so pissed over a woman who had left me? Just take a second to recuperate. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” I flapped my hand against my side.
He finally looked up. The single tear he’d cried minutes ago had grown to many, and were now traveling down his face. I couldn’t help but drop to the floor, placing my hands on his knees. “Don’t cry. Please.” He made a little noise from the contact I made with his missing leg. I removed my hands quickly.
He was on the verge of sobbing. His breathing picked up some, causing me to see red flags. He was still extremely ill. I didn’t need for something to upset him and him to end up in the hospital again. My strong dad was weak and vulnerable now.
“I’m so sorry,” he cried, “I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t. The things you said, how hurt you were about her not being around, I just couldn’t let her in your life with the possibility of her leaving you again.”
I got up to sit next to him, putting my hand on his back and rubbing it up and down to sooth him. “It’s okay, I understand. You were looking out for me. I will never be upset about that.” I continued to rub his back until I felt like he’d calmed down enough.
He reached around me to grab his crutches. They were the only way he could get to his wheelchair or living room, or even just to stand up. Once he had steadied himself he moved to his dresser and opened one of the middle drawers. When he turned around to me he had a folded up piece of paper in his hand. I still couldn’t overcome the fact that my father didn’t have a leg.
“This,” he said, holding out the paper to me, “Is for you.”
My hands were shaking as I reached out to grab the paper from his grip. I just looked at it like it was some sort of treasure map before holding it up next to my head. “And what is this exactly?”
He had that look in his eyes again, like he was hiding something else.
“What is it?” I repeated, my voice shaky.
He leaned against the drawer to help with his balance. With one hand on the stick and the other on the dresser, he said, “Your mother wrote that letter to you. I never read it. The note that was attached…” He stopped speaking. Licking his dry lips, he continued, “Your mother passed away a few months back.”
Feelings I had never experienced before were rising up. I didn’t know her, I didn’t love her. Yes, she helped in the process of creating me, but I didn’t care for her. So why was I so upset? Why was I so sad? Why did I feel so alone again? Soon, I would be just that. This couldn’t be right. My mother was dead and now my father would die too.
This was the woman who had initiated my feelings of abandonment. After she’d left, everybody who ever meant anything to me decided to do the same. It was like a chain reaction that she had started without even knowing it. But all the things I wanted to say to her, all of those hurtful words that I wanted to scream in her face, I’d been denied. She’d robbed me of the privilege of telling her how I felt. She robbed me of the need to find her and scream at her about what a terrible mother she was.
Thinking about this was making me mad. I crumpled the paper in my hands, wanting to throw it away. I wanted to rip it up. But I couldn’t.
“Becca? Are you…”
I cut him off before he could speak another word. “When did you find out?” I wanted to know but I didn’t.
He took a deep breath. “I found out when that letter came in the mail. A friend of Rebecca’s sent it to me. I don’t know how she found out where we lived but she had her friend promise her to look for us and send this letter when she found us. Attached to the letter was this note that her friend had written, telling me that Rebecca passed away from drug abuse a couple of weeks after she wrote them.”
“How long did you know?” I repeated.
“For a while now.”
“What’s a while?” I held a letter in my hands that my dying mother had written for me and now she was dead. The specifics were kind of important.
“Since you were…twelve.”
With the crumpled paper in my hand, I stood up from the bed. Walking past my dad, I didn’t share a glance as I exited his room and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. S
lamming the door shut, I rushed to my bed, digging my head into my pillow. With the paper still in my hands I shed tears for the woman I had never met.
JAMES
“Dude, what are you doing?” I heard Paul say at my door.
I pointed to my bag. “Paul, really? What the fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing.”
“Yeah, I know you’re packing, asshole. I’m just saying, I thought you were leaving on Thursday?” His mouth was full from the half eaten apple in his hand, so small bits and pieces were coming out of his mouth when he spoke.
Putting my hands on his chest to ease him out of my bedroom, I said, “Firstly, do not eat that shit in my room because you don’t know how to chew like a normal person. Secondly, Jim has everything covered at work so I’m going down to Becca’s place early.”
I turned back around to what I was doing. I folded all my t-shirts and shorts that I was going to wear when I was down there. I needed to be back by Monday, so that gave me four days.
Paul leaned against my doorframe as he continued to eat his apple like a horse. “You’re going to be there for like, ever, dude.”
Turning around, I held my chest. “Are you going to miss me?” I teased him.
“You’re such a dick. Hurry and pack so you can leave and I can fuck whoever I want, wherever and whenever I want.”
Pointing to him, I said seriously, “You are not fucking in my room, bro. If I find out you fucked in my room I will kick your ass.”
He just gave me a grin and walked away. “Paul! I’m fucking serious!” I yelled. He damn well heard me, and he knew I would rip his head off.
I went to my dresser, opened the third drawer and grabbed a pair of my black socks. I reached in further and took a bundle of cash I kept there. Now that Becca and I were together I wanted to take her out on a date.
A real date.
Finally, I got my duffle bag ready. Whenever I took my motorcycle on long rides I made sure that I didn’t carry too much, so my duffle bag was the perfect weight. If I missed something I’d just buy it when I was down there.
I didn’t know why I was so nervous about this whole visit. I mean, it was just Becca; she knew how I was, how I operated. Maybe being with her this way was going to make things weird and different? But what if something went wrong and our fucking friendship was over? Sitting on my bed, I put my elbows on my knees and placed my face in my hands. What the hell was wrong with me? I was never like this around a chick. I told her I loved her, so maybe she was looking for that hopeless romantic guy. I didn’t know how to be that, but I’d learn for her.
I didn’t know the first thing about that. I mean, I’d hardly had a good example growing up. Maybe I’d just end up like my dad and be a total douchebag. Speaking of my dad, the asshole had fucking sent me another text message. I didn’t delete it this time. I’d been trying to respond back, trying to tell him to fuck off. Pulling my phone from my black shorts pocket, I scrolled through my texts until I found him.
Asshole: Hey son, I am not giving up on you or the chance to have a conversation with you. I spoke to your mother last week and she said you were doing well. I can come to you if you can’t come to me. I really want to have a chat. After hearing me out you can tell me to go away, but I just need you to hear me out first okay? I love you son. Sorry (10:09am)
I kept scrolling through my messages until I found one from Becca from the other day. I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face.
Me: Hey babes, I miss u. Just wanted u to know. Hope all is ok? Everything is ok here, except my dad’s being a pain in the ass (7:30pm)
I’d been texting her all day but she must have been so crazy busy with work and her dad being home that she probably didn’t have a minute to herself. Since she hadn’t wrote me back earlier either, I didn’t expect her to write back then, so I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket. I double checked to make sure I had my important things in the duffle bag. Everything was there. I grabbed the bag and placed it by the door so that all I had to do was grab and go in the morning.
“Finally ready?” Paul asked, lying on the sofa.
Walking to the sofa, I placed my hands on the top to lean over and look at his nasty ass. He had his fucking hands down his pants for no reason at all.
“You better get checked out, bro.” I told him, nodding down to his hand.
He removed his hand fast. “Fuck you, dude, I’m so clean you can eat from him.”
“Seriously, too much fucking info, nasty ass.” Sometimes, just sometimes, I wished he couldn’t speak. “And yes, I’m done. So right now I’m going to shower then go to bed to get some good shut eye before I leave in the morning.”
“Uh huh…” he replied, oddly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked him. Did I really want to know?
“Nothing.”
“If you don’t tell me I will kick your ass,” I threatened him.
He sat up. “You know, you need some anger management classes. You always want to beat someone’s ass.” He was shaking his head. He was right about that. My mother tried to tell me that once. I told her she was losing her fucking mind, without the curse word, of course. “It’s just I’ve never seen you like this,” he continues. “All smitten and shit over a chick. It’s weird that you’re in love. I guess I already knew you loved Becca, but I think this is the longest you’ve gone without sex.” What an asshole. He said in love in quotation marks with his fingers, but he was right, this was the longest I’d been without sex.
I wasn’t hearing him anymore. I made my way to the bathroom. “Just sit there, shut up, and put your hand back down your pants.”
I didn’t bother to hear the next words out of his mouth. I was already inside the bathroom. Turning the hot and cold water on, I started to strip my clothes. Stepping inside the shower I found the water more cold than hot, but it didn’t matter, I needed this. I’d been for a run after work, which I rarely did, but I needed to take away some of the stress from the text I’d gotten from my dad, and my thoughts about Becca. I loved thinking about her. She was the person who ruled my mind. The way her lips felt when they touched mine. I’d kissed quite a few girls in my life, but kissing her was like leaving an imprint on my heart. Kisses from other girls felt like nothing, meaningless, but Becca’s were full of meaning, full of life. I’d wanted to kiss those soft, velvety lips for a long time now and when our lips touched (without her being drunk) it was extra-extraordinary.
Placing one hand on the wall of the shower, I couldn’t help but remember the taste of her tongue. The cold water rained against my back, egging on my thoughts of her tongue being so delicious and sweet, mingling with mine in a heated dance. My free hand made its way down my chest to my shaft as I thought of her grip on my arms and how they were aggressive with hunger.
If she thought I was the hunter, she was wrong.
I was the prey. And she captured me completely.
My hand moved up and down slowly as my thoughts continued to run wild. I pictured her breasts, how they were pushed up against my chest and how all I wanted to do was lift her up on the table and devour her. I picked up the speed a bit more. The water had turned cold, but it was doing nothing to take my mind away from the thoughts that were swimming in my head. Fuck, the way she gripped my hair and pulled hard until a moan escaped my lips, which in turn, made her grip me harder. As my memory played out, my hips started to move back and forth, in tandem with my hand gliding up and down with more speed. I couldn’t help but think how she would look when I had her on the bed, laid out with that beautiful sexy body of hers, as I looked into those hypnotic light blue eyes.
She was a fucking angel sent down, created just for me.
My hips were pumping faster into my hand, going up and down with high speeds. Gritting my teeth, I knew I was close to coming. My legs buckled and a hiss came through my teeth. Before I knew it, my seeds were running down my hand, dissolving with the water.
“Fuck,” I whispered t
o myself, breathing heavily. Just thinking about her was driving me nuts. I hoped I could keep my hands to myself when I was down there tomorrow, or I might need many more cold showers.
Grabbing the removable showerhead, I made sure that I got everything.
Getting out of the shower, I throw on my blue boxer briefs and went to my room. Checking my phone, I didn’t see a new text message so I opened my nightstand and pulled out my headphones. Plugging them into my phone, I pressed shuffle on my play list. Maroon 5 ‘Daylight’ played and I got comfortable for sleep.
Tomorrow I’d be seeing Becca. Hopefully she’d be surprised when she saw me, since she didn’t know I would be there early. She was expecting me on Thursday, but I couldn’t wait until then to see her. Before the song was over, I heard the sound of a few text messages coming through. I didn’t bother to check them. I just bumped up the volume on my headphones before my eyes got heavy.
BECCA
Since my dad told me about my mother the day before, I’d been living in a huge blur. It was like I didn’t want to do anything. I had been in my room since the other night when I’d cried out everything I had into my pillow. I still had the crumbled piece of paper in my hands, but I hadn’t opened it or read it.
My phone had been crazy with text messages, but I hadn’t answered or checked it. My dad tried calling my name a few times, but I didn’t answer him. He wasn’t someone I wanted to talk to at that moment. He was actually the last person I wanted to see or speak to. He had known that my mother had tried to contact us before we moved. That was over eight fucking years ago. How could he lie to me? Granted, I didn’t want to know about her, but seriously…I couldn’t understand it. I knew why he chose to tell me this at that moment, and it was unsettling to know he wanted all of his demons out of his closet before he died. I just wished it wasn’t this demon.