HICKEY

by Cora Brent

  “You too,” she said and flashed me a puzzled glance before pitching into the water. She covered quite a distance underwater before resurfacing into a butterfly stroke.

  Since I had no towel I just used my shirt to wipe down and then exited the gate to the parking lot. I was back at Yucca Hall five minutes later, scanning all the parked cars in search of the battered Honda I knew Cecily was driving these days. It was there in the far corner.

  Kevin and Maura were snuggled in each other’s arms and watching some show about bikers when I walked into the room.

  “Hey, man.” A shirtless Kevin waved at me. Maura giggled into his neck.

  “Hi guys,” I said, pausing to grab a change of clothes before closing myself in the bathroom and blasting hot water in my face.

  The two lovebirds were in the exact same spot where I’d left them, the show still blaring from Kevin’s laptop. I had some reading to do for classes and I was really trying to take academics seriously now, which was something I’d never done in high school. It was tough to concentrate with all the noise though so I was thinking of venturing down to the study lounge when I remembered I had a question for Kevin.

  “You said a girl was looking for me,” I said.

  “Huh?” He was staring at the screen. Maura was running pink polished nails over his wispy chest hair.

  “In your text. You said some girl was looking for me and you forgot her name.”

  “Oh yeah.” He focused on me now and closed the laptop. “She knocked on the door a few hours ago.” He snapped his fingers. “I still can’t remember her name. She lives downstairs and she’s kind of bitchy, always yelling at people to quit playing golf in the hallway.”

  “She’s not bitchy,” Maura said indignantly as she sat up. “She’s nice. Anyway she’s the RA downstairs so it’s kind of her job. And don’t say bitchy, Kev. It’s sexist.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kevin said quickly and enveloped Maura in his arms. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “I forgive you, baby,” she purred and they started playing tonsil hockey.

  I had to loudly clear my throat twice before they noticed that I was still standing there.

  “What’s up?” Kevin said, seeming a bit annoyed.

  “Is her name Cecily?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Maura said, sitting up and discreetly wiping the saliva off her chin. “You know Cecily? She’s awesome. I was a basket case my first week here and she always tried to make me feel better.”

  “I know Cecily,” I said.

  Maura smiled at me and returned to Kevin’s embrace as I left the room. I’d never mentioned to my roommate that my ex-wife was living downstairs. The subject never came up and anyway it felt like a betrayal of Cecily’s privacy if I said something that would get all the kids gossiping about her. This was her world, after all, and I hadn’t been invited.

  All evidence of the crudely scrawled penis was gone from Cecily’s door and the hallway on the first floor was quiet. I rapped three times on the door and waved when I saw the peephole darken.

  This time she didn’t invite me inside. She stepped out and closed the door behind her. My heart pounded as I tried not to be a dick and notice the outline of her tits in her blue tank top.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” she said as she pulled on a long sweater.

  I hesitated. “Sorry, were you sleeping?”

  “I was trying to,” she said a little stiffly and crossed her arms over her chest like she was cold, which was impossible. She wasn’t looking at me. Instead she stared down at the polished concrete floor and leaned against the doorframe.

  A girl walked by with her face in her phone. She didn’t seem to notice we were there, not even when I stepped aside to let her pass. I leaned against the wall beside Cecily.

  “This is weird,” I said, referring to how stiff we were being with each other.

  She nodded. “It sure is.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come by before this but-“

  “I didn’t want you to,” she said shortly. “I didn’t want to see you. And I don’t want to talk about what happened last time. As far as I’m concerned it didn’t happen at all.”

  Her words were unconvincing, especially when she tightened her arms across her body and fidgeted. If she’d been trying to pretend that hot episode in her room happened then I’d guess she had failed miserably. But taunting her about it wouldn’t get me anywhere and I didn’t want to do that anyway.

  “Then it didn’t happen,” I said simply.

  She shot me a suspicious look.

  “My roommate told me you came by,” I said, partly to remind her that tonight she’d sought me out and not the other way around.

  “Yeah, I asked around until I found out where you lived.” She played with the hem of her sweater, almost like she was nervous. “I thought enough time had gone by and we should talk.”

  I relaxed. “Of course we should talk. We should have talked before this.”

  “You can’t come in my room.” She blushed and looked in the other direction.

  “Fine,” I said easily. “Albie’s is just down the street and they’re a twenty four hour place. You hungry? I’ll buy you a stack of pancakes.”

  “No, I’m not hungry and it’s nearly eleven o’clock,” she said in an annoyed tone. “I’ve got a presentation early in the morning. We should meet somewhere else, somewhere nonthreatening.”

  I reached over and plucked a piece of nonexistent lint from her sweater, letting my fingers linger. “What do you feel threatened about, Cess?”

  Her lips pursed at the sound of her nickname. “I didn’t mean in the traditional sense. I just meant that any encounter we have ought to be in a neutral setting so we don’t, um-“

  “Fuck like dogs?” I finished politely.

  She glared at me. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Then don’t say garbage like ‘neutral setting’. Name a time and name a place.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow. Three o’clock. Albie’s”

  I was supposed to work tomorrow but I could juggle things around. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’ll still spring for the pancakes.”

  Her mouth twitched, just a centimeter. “That’s not required.”

  “Nothing’s required. I want to.”

  “Bran! There’s no rule requiring you to to carry me.”

  “Hush. I want to.”

  I could almost hear those seven-year-old echoes in the corridor of Yucca Hall, could almost imagine that I was about to carry my blushing bride across the threshold of a roadside motel an hour after we’d exchanged hasty vows. Even now, long after it mattered in the slightest, I wished it had occurred to me to take her somewhere nicer.

  Cecily looked troubled and distant. I realized she was waiting for me to leave but I didn’t feel like it. Now that she was less than two feet away I wanted to look at her as long as I could. Her soft hair was down, framing her face and she had one leg casually crossed over the other as she continued to lean against the doorframe. I wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to ask her what it was she wanted and swear that I would give it to her this time, seven long years after I should have.

  “Why did you have to come here, Bran?” she asked in a small, weary voice just before she disappeared back into her room.

  For a minute I didn’t move. I just stared at Cecily’s closed door and thought about her question.

  I didn’t consider myself as an impulsive guy. Yet for better or for worse, the course of my life had been ruled by three impulsive events.

  One was when I enlisted in the Army.

  Another was when I drove across a dozen states with only a vague plan and a burning hope.

  But the one that ruled my heart and my past and my future happened seven years ago when I looked at the luminous girl who made me feel alive and asked her to marry me.

  Cecily knew why I’d come here. I’d come here for her. And I wasn’t going away anytime soon. />
  CHAPTER TEN

  Cecily

  There were nights when I was especially glad I didn’t have a roommate because the relentless noise from my vibrator was bound to raise an eyebrow. My vibrator was awesome – multispeed and waterproof and my generous twenty-fifth birthday present to myself. Thank god it was rechargeable because the batteries would have bankrupted me.

  These past couple of weeks I hadn’t been able to shake Bran out of my head. I even scored a C on a Macroeconomics exam because my mind had been Branified, which was a term I’d coined myself and never spoken aloud. Several times I considered submitting an entry to Merriam Webster.

  Branified - when the mind of an otherwise mature and responsible woman is turned to lustful mush by abs and shoulders and the most memorable cock in the hemisphere. May be used as an adjective or a verb.

  Finally I had enough and marched up to his room. I wouldn’t tolerate getting C’s just because Branson Hickey had decided to invade. When I knocked sharply on the door I was prepared. I was ready. I was not sexually aroused in the slightest.

  Then that Kevin kid answered with Maura, who was much more cheerful these days, at his side. They answered the door with their arms all around each other as if someone had super glued them together.

  No, Bran wasn’t around.

  No, Kevin didn’t know when he’d be back.

  “Thank you,” I said crisply and turned on my heel.

  “Wait,” Kevin called after me. “What’s your name again?”

  “Cecily,” I muttered and half hoped he wouldn’t hear because I’d already lost my nerve over confronting Bran.

  Then he showed up at my door all freshly showered and barefoot and looking like a bronze god in gym shorts. I had to wrap my own arms around my body to keep myself from doing something stupid like licking his chest or inviting him into my room.

  The scary part was how strongly I was considering it, even though I knew what would happen once Bran and I were in a room alone. It seemed there was no easy way to shut off formidable physical chemistry.

  That was the problem. Becoming fuck buddies with your insanely hot ex-husband was never an awesome idea. But I wouldn’t be able to help myself.

  Why the hell did he have to come here anyway?

  I hadn’t meant to outright ask him that, not tonight when I was teetering an edge that could easily wind up with us slamming together on every flat surface of my room.

  In return he gave me a surprised look and I quickly shut the door in his face. After pacing the room for a few minutes and trying to stifle the urge to chase after him I grabbed my favorite toy out of my dresser, knelt down in the middle of my floor and got myself off with a make believe dick as I closed my eyes and pretended I was riding Bran’s hard body.

  “Bran, damn you to hell,” I whispered through clenched teeth when I came.

  Then I shoved the vibrator back into drawer, shut off the light and crawled into bed while the muscles between my legs still shuddered from the aftershocks. I felt stupid.

  The next day I had an early class and then from ten until two I had my internship, working in the accounting department at a large freight company that was headquartered in Phoenix. Mostly I was given basic errands and administrative tasks to support the department but it was good experience and it kept me busy.

  In an effort to keep my mind occupied, I bustled from one chore to the next like a determined worker bee. I only wished I hadn’t worn heels because my toes were pinched and I hated the clack clack noise they made on the corridor floors. At least for the time being my mind was off Bran and our impending meeting.

  “Where’s the fire?” joked Keith, one of the financial analysts. It actually wasn’t much of a joke but I’d already realized Keith was always looking for a reason to talk to me.

  “In accounts payable,” I told him, waving a stack of vendor invoices.

  Keith smiled at me. He had a nice smile. He was twenty-nine and divorced so we had something in common. I knew if I gave him two minutes of my time he would find a reason to ask me out. But I wasn’t feeling particularly flirty so I just put my head down and kept walking.

  At two o’clock I grabbed my purse and headed for the elevator. I groaned on the inside when I saw Keith standing there. Then he flashed a happy grin my way and I felt like a jerk.

  “Heading out?” he asked and swept his eyes over me subtly, but not so subtly that I didn’t notice.

  “Yes.”

  The elevator beeped and the doors opened. Keith made a gallant motion with his hand to signal that I ought to go in first so I did. When the doors were closed he asked me if I had big plans tonight and I pointed out that it was the middle of the week. He coughed and made an awkward comment about the importance of inserting a little fun into the dull fabric of our everyday lives.

  “Bye, Keith,” I said the second the elevator opened and then split before he could muster up the courage to ask me anything in particular.

  My plan was to arrive at Albie’s at least fifteen minutes three. It seemed important somehow to be the first one to arrive, a power play of sorts. As if whoever was sitting there in command of the table automatically had the upper hand.

  But before I even drove out of the parking garage I decided I needed some emotional support so I took a short detour to visit my favorite bakery owner.

  Antha was helping a customer so I had to wait my turn before I reached across the counter to hug her.

  “What are you doing, Cecily?” she laughed as she patted my back.

  “Gathering my courage,” I told her. “Can I borrow some of yours?”

  She backed up and looked at me, her huge brown eyes full of concern as I gave her a quick rundown of my conversation with Bran last night and told her I was on my way to meet him.

  “So is it like a date?” she asked carefully.

  I shook my head hard. “Nothing like a date. Since Bran and I can’t seem to talk behind closed doors without touching each other I had to find an alternative location.” I sighed. “Antha, he’s here for a reason. I really need to clear the air and let him know that there’s not a chance in hell anything real will ever happen between us.”

  She fiddled with something on the cash register and was silent. I knew my best friend well enough to tell when she had something on her mind that she didn’t want to say.

  “Spit it out,” I prodded.

  Antha cocked her head and looked at me with sympathy. “Are you sure?”

  “About what?”

  “That there isn’t a chance in hell for you two.” She shrugged. “It just seems like if you were sure then you wouldn’t be searching for the will to resist him.”

  Of course I was sure. I had my life together now. I was no longer some foolish girl who was hopelessly infatuated with the local hero and willing to shove all of her own goals to the back of the line just to be what he wanted. I couldn’t be that girl again, couldn’t risk that kind of heartbreak twice in a lifetime.

  “I’m sure.”

  Antha gave me one more friendly hug before I left. It helped.

  On my way to the diner I got stuck in traffic and by the time I pulled into the parking lot I was five minutes late. I cursed as I turned off the ignition and checked my makeup in the mirror. As I rolled on some more lipstick I told myself I didn’t care at all what I looked like for Bran. The only reason why I was also brushing on some additional mascara was because looking good gave me more confidence.

  A sudden sharp tap on my window made me shriek and drop the mascara brush. Bran stood there on the other side of the glass. He waved and smiled. He hadn’t taken pains with his appearance, wearing a university t-shirt and jeans with black work boots. He also looked like he’d forgotten to shave again.

  Bran motioned for me to unlock the door so I sighed and cooperated. He opened the car door like a gentleman but there was something almost sarcastic about it, especially when he made a sweeping hand gesture.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said crisply,
feeling like I most definitely did not have the upper hand as I struggled out of the car, dropping my purse on the pavement in the process.

  “I got a table,” he said, picking up my purse. “I saw you pull up and was starting to wonder if you’d ever come in because you spent so long messing with your makeup.”

  I snatched my purse back from him. All of a sudden I wasn’t in a reasonable mood. “So now you don’t like my makeup,” I snapped, even though Bran hadn’t really complained.

  He stared at me searchingly, his gaze lingering on my lips. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t like it. You don’t need makeup, Cess. You’ve always been a natural beauty.”

  I swallowed and clutched my purse to my chest. “Let’s go inside.”

  Bran’s table was beside the window. He’d already ordered an iced tea for me and the waitress was just delivering it when I slid into the booth.

  “You still like iced tea, right?” Bran asked.

  “I do,” I said, irritated that he saw fit to remind me that we had a history.

  When the waitress returned I ordered a roast beef sandwich and Bran ordered a hamburger. I knew that’s what he would order. But I didn’t say so.

  Bran took a drink of water and then set the glass down. “I’m glad we’re sitting down face to face. I know I still owe you some answers.”

  I balled a napkin in my hand. “You could have warned me,” I said quietly. “You just show up here after seven years. Going to my school, living in my building, like some kind of extreme stalker.”

  “You would have told me not to come.”

  “Can you blame me?” I muttered.

  He ignored the question. “As far as Yucca Hall goes, I’m looking for another place. The freshman dorm lifestyle was only supposed to be temporary and I swear I had no idea you were living there.”

  “But you already said you knew this was where I was going to school.”

  His eyes were fastened on me intently. “Yes.”

  I sighed. It wasn’t important how he knew. That information was probably easily enough to come by if someone was looking. Even without being very active on social media, bits of pieces of our lives inevitably ended up online. There was no real privacy anymore.