by L A Cotton
For stealing Blake.
After quickly checking that everyone was happy with the soup, I returned to the service area. I didn’t play these kinds of games. I thought I had made my peace about Blake having someone. But why did it have to be her? Of all people. She wasn’t even a good person. Maybe if he was with someone who was kind and warm and gentle, it would have been easier to come to terms with. I could have tried to, at least, been happy for him.
“I’m just going to the restrooms,” I said to Tara, who was busy checking over her clipboard again. “Sure,” she replied not even lifting her head away from Mary’s checklist.
The Grand was nice, but it didn’t have the facilities as some of the bigger venues we serviced. There were no staff restrooms in the vicinity, and I didn’t have the time to go in search of somewhere else to pee. I hurried into one of the stalls and shuffled my skirt up my legs. When I was finished, I flushed and exited the stall and walked straight into Brittany. She scowled and backed me up against the stall door, which had flung shut behind me. “I know who you are, Penny Wilson.”
“Wha- what? What are you talking about?”
It was a stupid reply; I knew exactly what she was talking about, but it was all I had. Panic had strangled all my intellectual thought processes.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.” Brittany stepped into me again forcing my back up against the solid door. It swung open and I stumbled backward, scrambling to stay upright.
“Brittany, come on, I have a j-”
Her eyes were alive with pure hatred. I imagined the same emotion reflected back at her, and although she had taken me by surprise, I was starting to feel the anger boil underneath the surface.
“Don’t you dare speak my name. You. Are. No one. If you come near Blake again, I will make sure you never find work again. If you know anything about my family and me, about Blake’s uncle, you’ll know I’m not lying.”
Blake’s uncle? What did he have to do with this?
“Blake is mine. Not some trailer trash girl of his past. Stay away from him or you’ll regret it.” Brittany swung around and left the restrooms. I sunk to the floor and let the door close. What in hell’s name had just happened? Brittany knew who I was? But she knew more than that; she knew about our past… our connection.
The main door to the restrooms banged, and Tara yelled, “Second course is up, Penny. Come on.”
“Coming, I’m coming,” I yelled back, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.
Tara was wrong; Brittany wasn’t just a piranha. She was a shark, and I was swimming in open waters just trying to stay afloat. And I had a sinking feeling there was much more to Brittany’s threat than I realized.
For the rest of the evening, Brittany ignored me. She didn’t once look in my direction, but it didn’t appease my nerves any. I was still shaking when I finally reached The Oriental Garden. Everything had closed up for the night. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Even Mr. Chen and his family were closing the takeout for a couple of days, but it wasn’t being alone on Thanksgiving that was bothering me. It was Brittany’s warning. Her words lingered with me the whole ride back from Grandview Heights. Growing up, Daddy was a huge football fan, and he always used to say that the best form of defense was attack. Brittany had attacked me, which got me thinking.
What was she trying to defend?
As I rounded the corner to the stairwell, I had my answer. My whole world slowed down until there was nothing except for Blake sitting on the bottom step with his head in his hands, the first snow of winter falling around him.
First, Brittany.
Now, Blake.
It was going to be a long night.
Blake looked up, and our eyes locked. The emotion staring back at me left me breathless. Needing to ground myself, I wrapped my arms around myself and said, “What are you doing here?”
He rose from the step and took a step toward me. I sucked in a sharp breath. Blake was already affecting me. A single look, and I was already crumbling.
“Everything is so fucked up.” His voice sounded so defeated.
The snow was falling harder now, the flakes covering everything with their white innocence. Funny really, that we were surrounded by something so beautiful when our history was the opposite. It was tragic and ugly and filled with what-ifs and could-have-beens. It was tainted. No, our story didn’t deserve snow; it deserved a storm. The kind of storm that left a trail of devastation in its wake.
I closed my eyes and counted to three. When I opened them again, Blake was watching me. “Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to know if this was real. If you’re really standing here outside of my apartment because tonight I served soup to your fiancée. Your fucking fiancée, Blake. So ask me again why I am sure this must be a dream? That this can’t possibly be happening.”
His face paled, and his hands came up to reach out to me. I stepped back. If he touched me, the last of my defenses would crumble. I had to stay strong.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I repeated unable to hide the bitterness in my quivering voice. “Sorry for what exactly? The summer? For letting me think you still felt something for me, that after all this time there was still something real between us?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Or are you sorry for forgetting to mention you had a fiancée? That you’re getting married—married, for fuck’s sake. You’re getting married, and you let me believe that you still loved me. That everything we shared, everything I felt all those years ago wasn’t just something my mind made up to cope with all the bullshit life rained down on me. That it was real.”
Somehow, I ended up standing right in front of Blake. I couldn’t even remember moving, but before I could think about it, my hands lunged at his chest. “IT WASN’T REAL,” I shrieked pushing hard against his solid frame. “NONE OF IT WAS REAL. IT WAS ALL A LIE. YOU LIED. I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU.” My fists pounded against his chest while ugly sobs tore from inside of me.
Standing there, in the back alley of The Oriental Garden and Bernie’s Bar with the snow falling all around us, I fell apart. My anger and frustration and hurt over everything that had happened poured out of me, and I continued to hit Blake. I cried for my parents leaving me on this earth alone. For Blake abandoning me when I needed him most. For Derek ruining my chances of ever having a normal healthy relationship. I cried for everything that had been and things that would never have the chance to be.
And Blake let me.
He didn’t try to stop me, or comfort me, or fight me off. He just stood there, taking each pound of my fist against his sweater. And when I was emotionally exhausted and had nothing left to give, I collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around me, lifted me off the ground, and carried me up the stairs to my apartment. Blake found my key, opened the door, and carried me inside. I clung to him like he was my tether to reality, and as he lowered me to the floor to find the light switch, I whimpered. The loss of his touch physically hurt me, and although my hysterical cries had quieted to gentle sobs, I knew I was only one step away from breaking down again.
The situation hung between us, thick and heavy. Blake regarded me, wariness dancing in his eyes. He was probably two seconds from splitting. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. But I didn’t look away either. Blake’s eyes drew me in, holding me there. If only I could translate what they were saying.
Blake made the first move. He stepped toward me. Not enough that I moved back, but enough that if I reached out, I could touch him. I didn’t. My hands remained firmly around my waist. If I moved them, I felt sure I would fall apart at the seams.
“It’s always been you, Pen.” Blake closed the distance between us, brushing my snow-covered hair out of my eyes. “My lucky Penny. I loved you when we were just two kids lost and alone…”
I squeezed my eyes tight. This was the part where he would finally be honest and own up to his mistake. His lies. This was the part where he would admit he loved Brittany
. That whatever had existed between us was in the past. I held my breath, waiting.
Silence filled the room, and then an unsteady voice said, “... and I love you now.”
My eyes flew open and connected with Blake.
He loved me?
Me.
“But… but you’re marrying her.” I didn’t understand.
“There’s so much I have to explain, but right now, I really need to do this.” He pressed his lips to mine and everything fell away. All of the pain, the hurt, the betrayal disappeared in the feel of Blake’s lips moving against my own.
What was I doing?
“Stop, stop,” I murmured into his mouth, a war between my head and heart raging inside of me.
Blake sighed against my lips before pulling back just enough to look at me. “I can’t stop. Please, don’t make me stop. This last month has almost killed me. Do you know what it’s like to live a lie, pretending to be someone you’re not to everyone around you?” The pain in his eyes paralyzed me, and it was only when he dropped his forehead to mine that I managed to choke out, “Wha-”
Blake stole my words again. Strong hands skimmed underneath my butt and pulled me into him pressing us together until it was hard to tell where I ended and Blake began. This kiss was different from the one in the woods all those weeks ago. Even though that had felt desperate at the time, this was something else entirely. I could literally feel Blake’s emotion with every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his lips against mine. I was broken—certain I had nothing left to give—and yet, Blake was taking everything from me. At that moment, I was his air as much as he was mine. As much as I wanted to fight it, to tell myself that I hated him, the man standing in front of me was my everything. Pain. Anger. Hurt and frustration. Fear. Hate. Hope and love. Blake Weston was everything I’d ever felt and wanted to feel again.
I’d been lost for so long, but at that single moment, I was found.
The realization startled me like waking from a dream. I wound my hands around Blake’s neck and pulled him closer. I needed him to be closer, if that was possible. To know that he was really here. He smiled against my lips and scooped me up off the floor, cradling my body to his. We moved through the small room with me clinging on for life until the light faded into darkness. My back hit something soft as Blake covered my body with his own. He kissed me gently and then brushed the skin along the edge of my jaw with feather light kisses. A shiver started in my spine and ran through my whole body.
I’d imagined this. The feel of Blake’s lips on my skin. How it would make me feel. Nothing compared. My skin burned for him. Feather light kisses became gentle nips and when Blake’s teeth gently grazed the skin along my neck, I arched into him as my breaths coming in short bursts.
“Penny, I love you so damn much.” His warm breath lingered on my skin and then he was looking down at me in awe. “Do you realize how many nights I have spent dreaming of this moment?”
Suddenly feeling very exposed, I dropped my eyes and squeezed them shut.
“Hey, hey.” Blake tried to coax me to look at him. “Penny, please.”
What was I doing?
Things had unraveled so quickly that I’d had little time to process what was happening between us. I was too caught up in Blake. But now, I was very aware that he was here, in my apartment, lying on top on me. Expecting what? Something I didn’t know if I was ready to give.
“Penny, look at me. What is it?”
Slowly, I opened my eyes. The wariness in Blake’s eyes was back and embarrassment started to unfold in my stomach. What are you doing?
“I…” The words lodged in my throat, and I shrugged Blake off me slightly. I couldn’t breathe with him weighing down on me like that. “There’s, hmm, there’s something you should know.”
Fear flashed in his eyes and my stomach knotted, but I needed to do this. This was a part of me. Inhaling deeply, I said, “I’ve never been with anyone, you know, in that way.”
“I, I don’t understand.” Blake rolled off me and sat on the edge of the bed. I shuffled up and sat up against the headboard. “What do you mean, that way?”
“I’m a virgin, Blake.”
“You mean, you’ve never…” He didn’t say the words, so I nodded my head.
“But how. How is that possible?”
It probably wasn’t meant as a joke, but a small laugh bubbled up and tumbled out of my mouth. “If I have to explain that part to you, you’re probably doing it all wrong.”
“Fuck, Penny, I… I don’t know what to say. Fuck.” Blake leaped up from the bed and started pacing the length of my small bedroom. I thought I would feel a deep sense of embarrassment, but part of me was relieved. Relieved that I’d shared this with him. But then Blake stopped with a look of alarm on his face. “Does this have anything to do with what he did?”
All of the air was sucked from the room.
“Yes… and no,” I answered honestly. “What Derek did left scars. The kind you don’t just get over, but it wasn’t just that. I’ve just never found anyone who I felt truly comfortable with letting touch me.”
Blake’s brows furrowed as he whispered, “But I’ve touched you. We’ve kissed.” He dragged one hand over his face clearly struggling to put all the pieces together.
I smiled weakly. I couldn’t explain it either—why I came alive when Blake touched me, but when others touched me, I wanted to retreat into myself. Neither of us spoke. Blake came to stand next to me and dropped to his knees. He grabbed my ankles gently and pulled me around until my legs were hanging over the edge and he was resting between them. Everything was silent except for the beating of our hearts. One of Blake’s hands reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear and I dropped my eyes and blushed. It was such an intimate gesture. Something was changing between us. It was scary and intense, and yet, despite all of my better judgment, it felt right.
This was our chance.
I felt it with every fiber of my soul.
Blake opened his mouth to say something, but this time, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. If one of us spoke now, this moment would pass.
And we might not get another.
“Pen- Penny, what are you doing?” he mumbled into my mouth as I parted my lips urging him to kiss me. I pulled back slightly to reply, “I’m making a choice.”
Age 18
The square envelope taunted me.
Today, I turned eighteen. It was the day I would have aged out of foster care, but here I was, hiding in my room while crowds of people partied in the rooms below in my honor. I could hear their laughter and the drunken conversations. Uncle Anthony and Aunt Miranda had gone all out for me. A DJ was set up in the garden room, food and kegs filled the kitchen, and my whole class at Wellington was present. But it could all go to hell.
Until my uncle wished me a happy birthday this morning and handed me two cards, I was ready to pack my shit and go find her. I was eighteen, and legally, they couldn’t stop me. Even if it meant turning up on their doorstep and demanding an address. I just wanted to know Penny was okay. Her feelings might have changed toward me, but mine hadn’t. For a year, they had only grown stronger.
The envelope changed everything—my uncle was right all along.
The first time I’d asked about riding out to Lancaster to see Penny, Uncle Anthony had reminded me that I couldn’t just turn up at the Freeman’s house. There were rules and protocols about that kind of thing. So I’d asked if I could call. He said no. Email. Another no. So I did the only thing I knew how. I waited until the house was quiet and my uncle had finally retreated to bed. I made it as far as the thirty-three before a police car pulled me over. Turned out Uncle Anthony really did know everyone in the city, including the local police officers. They had recognized the black Prius my uncle insisted I drive once I passed driver’s ed. It wasn’t until the third time I tried to sneak out that Uncle Anthony really lost his shit. Officer Dalty walked me to the front door, the third time in less than thre
e months, and waited until my uncle answered. He’d thanked the officer, grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, and hauled me inside.
“Sit,” my uncle commanded, the vein pulsating in his neck.
I dropped into one of the leather chairs and glared at him. It was the first time he’d ever gotten physical with me, but he didn’t scare me. After all, I’d survived Derek Freeman and lived to tell the tale. What worse could my own uncle do?
“Do I need to ask you where you were going, or were you trying to drive out to Lancaster again to see that Wilson girl?”
Penny, her name’s Penny.
I remained silent. We both knew where I was headed.
“Blake, have I not already explained that you can’t just turn up on their doorstep?”
“Why not? I just want to see her, to make sure she’s okay. It’s been months, and I haven’t heard back from her.”
Uncle Anthony walked over to the cabinet pushed against the wall and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “Have you considered that she might not want to write you back? That maybe she has moved on with life?”
No.
No.
Pain ripped through me. I hadn’t forgotten about her. Not a single day went by when I didn’t think about Penny. She wouldn’t just forget about me.
Would she?
“You’re wrong. Are you sure you gave them the letter?”
He nodded. “Max hand delivered it himself.”
“Maybe if we talk to the social worker. You must have their number, right? The ones who helped you find me?”
Something passed over Anthony’s emotionless face. It was quick, there and then gone, but I saw it.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?” I stood up too restless to sit. Everything pissed me off lately. It was here—this place—the money, the luxury—it was all too much.
My uncle regarded me for a second and then swirled his whiskey around in the glass. It sloshed up the sides, and he brought it to his lips and knocked it down in one. He placed the glass on the table dividing us and said, “I had to pull a lot of strings to get you here, Blake. Strings that usually take a long time to move. It would be bad for a lot of people if we draw attention to your situation.”