by Vi Carter
“I was going to say your body reminds me of the beauty of life.” I swallowed. “You are life, Grace.” He nodded as if to reinforce his statement, his eyes told me how serious he was, and his words were so powerful, the glass ball that I hide my emotions in shattered and I blinked and blinked and blinked. I wasn’t sure what to say, but to keep the tears away.
“You can’t just say something like that,” my statement came out all defensive, and I looked away as Derek sat back, giving me a strange look. Clearing my throat, I shrugged, uncomfortable. “Sorry. That was a nice thing to say,” I said, trying to push the awkwardness away. “I’m getting changed,” I got up from the counter and made my way to the kitchen door, but Derek slid across the floor and blocked my way.
“No,” he said folding his arms over his chest while keeping his legs apart.
“No?” I repeated.
“No, Grace. You are not going to run. Not from me. Why did me saying ‘you are life’ upset you?”
“Derek, I don’t want to do this,” I folded my arms across my chest. “Please, I need space to think,” I said, and he shook his head.
“That’s the last thing you need to do. Don’t think, just tell me why you felt angry.” I rubbed my eyes, really not wanting to do this.
“It was too nice, too much.” There I said it. I looked at Derek nervously, he stared at me, his eyes demanding more. I wanted to kick him in the balls and jump over his fallen form, instead. I opened my mouth. “It was so beautiful, and life isn’t a word I would use to describe myself.”
He nodded slowly. “What would you use?” he asked.
“Death,” I whispered. I could hear the truth in my statement. Death surrounded me, a part of me inside was dead, and he was poking at it, forcing it to breathe, and it terrified me.
Derek stood aside. “Why don’t you get into something comfortable and we’ll watch a movie.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, what, that was it? Was he letting it go? But his offer sounded nice, so I smiled.
“Sounds like a plan,” I got into my leggings, but made an effort with my hair and refreshed my makeup. I kept Derek’s t-shirt on. When I came back down, he had set us up in the front sitting room, which looked way too posh to be eating popcorn and drinking soda in. The cans sat on the mahogany coffee table. The floor looked like oak, the furniture a mixture of Victorian and some Modern pieces. The large marble fireplace took up one wall. My feet sank into the green rug that covered most of the floor. Derek sat on the couch comfortably turning on the TV. “What’s the movie?” I sat down beside him.
“Skull Cracker.” It sounded like something I would hate. But I didn't really care about the movie. Spending time with Derek made me get cosy.
“Sounds...cracking.”
Derek grinned. “Cute,” he said while handing me a soda. I grinned back at him. We settled down and Skull Cracker was just that, some guy called Chuck who could literally crack skulls with his bare hands. It was on overdrive. I laughed through some of it, but mostly rolled my eyes, tutted, and cringed. I must have paused it like a hundred times.
“You know that’s not possible?” I said to Derek, who tried to get the remote out of my hand.
“I know, Grace. I’m not five,” he reached for the remote again and I put it behind my back.
“What you going to do, Chuck? Hmmm?” I squealed when Derek very quickly stretched out and succeeded in snatching the remote out of my hands.
“It’s nearly over. Don’t you want to know why he’s cracking skulls?”
I sat back. “Actually, I do. Hit play.”
Derek smiled and started the movie. The whole film featured Chuck killing people, but we never found out why until the final scene. Chuck stood on an old wooden bridge, half dead from the beating he took from ten men, I know, ten, but it’s a good job that Chuck was a skull cracker, as he was facing off another man. Who he called father. Who we learn had slept with Chuck’s wife. “Gross,” I protested. “That’s like his daughter-in-law.”
Derek didn’t take his eyes off the tv. “Hush,” he said as Chuck, wait for it, didn’t crack his dad’s skull. I all but threw a pillow at the tv as he shot him instead after all that build up, and the credits rolled.
“What?” I complained out loud as Derek sat back. “He shot him? He’s supposed to be a skull cracker.” I picked up the cover of the movie. Who even made this movie? “Where did you get this?” I had never seen such a pointless and stupid movie.
“I thought it was good,” Derek said, seriously.
I looked at him incredulously, “Which part? Where he cracks skulls?”
Derek grinned and pulled me into his chest circling his arms around me, the skull cracker forgotten. “The part where I got to watch it with you. All your smart comments. You were cute.” He kissed my nose.
“Twice,” I said. Derek raised his eyebrows slightly, an invitation to explain. “It’s twice you have called me cute, three times means you’re falling for me hard, Viking.” I grinned at him.
“Maybe I am,” he didn’t smile, he was being serious again. Why did that terrify me? I wanted to run. As if sensing it, Derek squeezed me. “Maybe not,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I smiled back as a yawn left my mouth. “Tired?” Derek asked as I looked at the clock on the DVD player. It read two in the morning. No wonder my eyes burned. We tidied up and made our way upstairs. Climbing the steps was awkward, I wasn’t sure what room to sleep in after sleeping with him. I stopped outside the room that Derek had shown me when we'd first arrived.
“So...” I said, not going in. Derek looked amused at my awkwardness.
“So...” he said back, but there was no awkwardness in his stance. He stood waiting and heat burned my cheeks. He was going to make me say it. Well he would wait FOREVER.
“Goodnight.” I turned but smiled as his fingers circled my wrist. I hid my smile as I turned to him.
“Stay with me tonight?” That’s what I wanted, but the way he said it and how he looked at me, made it sound like so much more and fear coiled in the pit of my stomach. Fear I knew wasn’t rational.
“Okay.” His hand loosened around my wrist and he entwined our fingers together as he led me to his room. I didn’t speak as Derek lay me back on the bed and kissed me, my heart fluttered, and I could feel it in my neck. He moved off me, letting his hands disappear under my t-shirt. His fingers touched my skin, sending shivers through me as he pulled the band of my leggings to remove them. His hands took mine as he sat me up in the bed, he trailed kisses down my neck as his fingers worked on my hair, letting it loose down my back. Derek stood, pulling me with him.
When he pulled the duvet covers back, I got in and watched as he stripped down to his boxers. I took in a sharp breath that he heard and liked. As he climbed in, clicking off the light, he pulled me into his body, his chin resting on top of my head. He snuggled me. He must have noticed my confusion because I had been pretty sure we were going to have sex again. He kissed the top of my head.
“Sleep, we have time.” His words made tears burn my eyes. Time didn’t exist the way we thought it did. Time was precious but never really there. It was like a dream, fleeting, perfect, obscured, untouchable. My fingers moved to Derek’s bare chest, his heart raced under my hand. Did I make him nervous? The thought made me feel ten foot tall.
“Your heart is pounding.” I said it out loud, but didn’t mean to.
“You terrify me,” he said. I couldn’t see his face in the dark room.
I snorted. “Terrified of little old me?” I said with laughter in my voice, my hand rested on his fast-beating heart.
He laughed, but it held no humor. “Sleep, little Grace. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed the top of my head. I liked how he called me little Grace. Beside him I was small, but that’s because he was a huge Viking, one who held me in his arms. My stomach fluttered, and I smiled, feeling more at peace than I’ve felt in a long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
GRACE
“I WANT YOU TO LOOK at me,” I took James's small face in my hands, wiping the tears away. His big brown eyes met mine, and I wanted to kill my parents for putting those tears there. They were fighting again, and James had been watching it. I had come home from a friend’s to find him standing in the kitchen crying while neither of them noticed him. I think my mother was drunk. I grabbed him, taking him to his room. But even in there, we could still hear them. “What’s that song you like me to sing?” I asked, smiling at him. I knew the song; I had sung it a million times. I just wanted to distract him.
He snivelled a little hiccup that shook his tiny body. “One, two, three, four, five, once I caught a fish alive,” he snivelled again, and my mother’s shouts had more tears coming from his eyes.
“Look at me, James.” He did. “I want you to sing it to me.”
“I don’t want to, Grace."
I wiped his tears away. “I sing it to you when you’re tired or sad."
“Are you tired?” James shook his head answering his own question. “You don’t look tired.”
I smiled at him. “That’s because my makeup is covering it up.” I kept smiling as his little fingers rubbed under my eyes. He examined his finger.
“Your face is clean.”
“It’s special makeup. But I’m tired, so please sing for me.”
My father’s voice penetrated the walls, making James shrink back into the frame of his bed that he leaned against. “I’m scared,” he cried again, and I hugged him.
“Don’t be, they are just being silly.” I wiped more tears and started to sing, encouraging James to join in, he finally did. “Now don’t stop until I come back.”
“Don’t go,” he grabbed my hand.
“I’ll only be a minute, and I’ll bring back chocolate,” he beamed and started to sing with enthusiasm. It would have been funny, but his red eyes and tear-soaked cheeks along with my parents’ escalating row, just made it heart-breaking. I took his hands as he sang while smiling through his tears, and placed them over his ears, hoping it would block out some of the sounds. I left the room and could still hear him singing as I made my way into the kitchen. The minute I saw my mother, I couldn’t believe how drunk she was.
“Dad?” He was shouting but stopped and turned to me. “James was watching you. He’s in his room crying. What is wrong with you?” I looked at my mother too, who just looked at me. Silence filled the room the only sound now was the distant singing of James.
“He’s singing in his room.” My mother’s words weren’t slurred, but they held an arrogance. “You are always lying Grace.”
“Your mother’s not well, Grace. Just stay with James," My dad turned to me, his face stern.
“Why is she drunk?” I pointed at mam. “Who was looking after James when I wasn’t here?” My blood boiled as my anger raged inside me.
“He’s your responsibility; it’s the only thing I ask of you," My mother’s arrogant voice reverberated through me. What was going on? “He’s your son!”
“I never wanted him.” My mother’s declaration broke my heart.
“Jesus, Vivian! Stop it.” My dad’s fists hit the table, the sound making me jump.
“Here he comes, Mr. Righteous. The one who does no wrong.” My mother’s arms flailed, and her voice rose.
“Shut up,” my father’s roar had me stepping back. What was going on? The front door opened, and Emmett arrived. The prodigal son. The moment my mother saw him, shame filled her eyes.
“I can hear you from outside,” his words were low, controlled, and cold, like always.
“Emmett,” my mother started, and he cut her off with a gesture.
“What is going on?” I asked him, looking from my mother to my father and back to him. Nothing made sense.
“Where’s James?” Emmett asked, and I realized he wasn’t singing anymore. I left to find him curled on his side, his hands still covering his ears.
“James,” my voice had him sitting up.
“Where’s my chocolate?” he asked with a sniffle, and I laughed.
“Why don’t you take him out for Ice-cream?” Emmett's voice sounded from behind me. What did he care? I looked at him over my shoulder. I wasn’t going to start in front of James. James was in Emmett’s arms, now. He loved him, and it transformed Emmett into an actual brother. They joked and laughed, and Emmett carried him like a trophy into the hall. He patiently put on his jacket and hat; I looked into the kitchen were my mother and father stood silently.
“You have quite the effect on them?” I said, hoping for him to explain but he didn’t.
“Grace is taking you for ice-cream,” Emmett simply said. James jumped up and down. “Are you coming?” he asked, and I prayed he’d say no. He, did thankfully. I took one look at Emmett before leaving, knowing he would never tell me what was going on, and he would be gone when we got back. His cold demeanor towards me hurt, but he smiled at James. My mother’s drunken episodes had been more frequent lately. Why? I didn’t know; no one told me anything.
James licked his ice-cream as we sat on the bench in the park, his little nose and cheeks red. Why Emmett had suggested ice-cream on a winter’s day was beyond me. But sitting here, muffed up, eating ice-cream was kind of nice.
James had stopped eating and looked at me. “Grace?” My name was said with a scrunched-up face. I suppressed the laughter bubbling up my throat.
“What is it?” I asked, licking my ice-cream.
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I don’t think mammy likes me.” His little voice was serious, and then he licked his ice-cream after his declaration, as if it didn’t squeeze my heart.
“Of course she does. Why would you say that?” I wondered if he had heard her. God, I hoped not.
“She never spends time with me like you do.” Tears burned my eyes; she spent zero time with him.
“She’s just busy working, if she wasn’t she would spend time with you.” I tried to sound reassuring, but I don’t think he believed me as he licked his ice-cream. Both of us remained silent for a moment before he spoke again.
“Grace.”
“Yes, James?” I said, glancing at him.
“Will you be my mammy?" He was killing me, he sounded so serious.
“James, now you’re being silly. I’m your sister," I tried to smile, but his eyes filled with tears.
“I saw on tv a little girl who had no mammy and the men took her away," he sniffled. “So, I need one."
I pulled him into me. “First, you shouldn’t be watching that grown-up stuff. It’s not for you. Second, you have a mammy." He went to protest, but I stopped him. “James, no one will ever take you, I would never allow it."
“Promise, Grace, that no men will take me away."
“I promise,” I said.
I woke in a strange place, my heart jackhammering in my chest. My cheeks were wet with tears. “You’re okay.” The warm body and strong arms that held me brought me straight back to Earth.
Derek, his house.
Derek.
His smell filled my nostrils as my thoughts tried to make sense of where I was. “Bad Dream?” he asked. It was dark, and I couldn’t see him. My dreams weren’t dreams, they were always memories, and in such detail. James was still so fresh in my head, his voice singing ‘one, two, three, four, five, once I caught a fish alive.’
“Yeah,” my one word caught in my throat causing me to cough. Derek leaned over and flicked on the light. The loss of his warm, comforting arms made my panic rise, but it was only for a second and his arms were around me again.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked.
I didn’t, I really didn’t. “My brother. I was dreaming of James,” I whispered before looking at Derek. I wasn’t hiding now. My pain was too much. “It’s been two years, and sometimes, when I think of him, I get this panic like I need to run or reel it back in, that this can’t be it, this can’t be real.” My words were rushed and edged with hysteria. I t
ook a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I see his face,” a sob burst from my mouth, and more tears fell. “And I don’t want to anymore, Derek. I don’t want to remember!” I cried, and Derek pulled me into his chest.
“Shh, I’m here,” he stroked my back, and we rocked slightly. Something was building inside me, thrashing around trying to get loose, and I pushed away from Derek. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but he grabbed my face as I gasped for air.
“Look at me.” I tried but someone had cut the air from my lungs. “Grace, I want you to look at me. Feel my hands on your face.” I tried to focus on his eyes, so intense, so focused, so worried. His hands cocooned my face, as his thumb stroked back and forth in a soothing rhythm. “Listen to my voice. I’m here.” I could do little else as I watched his lips move. I sucked a breath. “Good girl,” he encouraged, and I took another one as he continued to stroke my face. “I’m right here.” I nodded at his words as I focused on my breathing. It grew steadier, my heart slowing down and the next emotion that took over was the familiar rush of embarrassment and shame. How could he like me now, after seeing me like this?
“I’m sorry,” I said, still a little breathless.
“For what?” Derek asked while still stroking my face. When I didn’t answer and looked away Derek held my face tighter. “Look at me, Grace.” I did, and his eyes looked bluer and softer then I had ever seen them before. “Don’t apologize for grieving. To anyone. Do you hear me?” I swallowed and nodded. “Good girl,” his words were accompanied by a soft kiss, and it calmed me. I let out a little breath and words climbed up my throat; ones that I swallowed and replaced with different ones.
“We better get back to sleep,” I said as Derek studied my face before lying down and pulling me with him. He tucked me close to his body, his arms circling me, protecting me. What I felt inside, a whole army couldn’t stop it. But as I moved closer to him, and breathed in his scent, my mind filled up with him, his face, his touch, his kiss, and it terrified me how much he meant to me so quickly. What would happen if it didn’t work? My stomach tightened, and James’s face came back to me, his crooked smile and big brown eyes. I hated feeling, and Derek was making me feel way too much.