by Susan Soares
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Devin picked me up at my apartment, and we drove to his house for Kyle’s birthday party. He had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on my thigh. The warmth of his hand as it slid up and down my leg sent fire through my lower body.
Devin set the radio to scan. Twenty seconds of songs and commercials whizzed by as the radio changed from station to station. Suddenly, I heard a familiar female voice, and I pushed the scan button instantly to stop it before it changed to the next station.
“Sorry,” I said realizing it was his radio, not mine. I hated when people touched any of my car’s controls while I was driving.
“No worries. I’m guessing you’re an Amy Parkson fan by the way you darted to stop it on this track.”
Warmth rushed my cheeks. “Yeah, I love her.” Soft acoustic guitar sounds emitted from the speakers as Amy’s voice cut through the air and straight to my heart. “She’s not for most guys, I guess.”
A huge smile crossed Devin’s face, which he tried to hide for some reason. “Nah, she’s cool. I like all types of music.”
He was probably mocking me, but I didn’t care. Amy Parkson had the voice of an angel. I lost count of how many times I listened to her ballad Forever after Haley died. It was one of the things that helped me cope during some of my darkest moments.
“She’s playing at the Troupe theater soon. I went online like the minute they went on sale but I couldn’t get any tickets. Stupid scalpers probably bought up half the place. It only seats two hundred people.”
“Aw man, that sucks,” he said through a smile.
I ignored his goofy grin as he was probably mocking me and my chick music. Instead, I focused on the feeling of his hand on my thigh as it traveled closer and closer to the center of my core.
***
We stood outside the front door of Devin’s house. He paused to look at me and said, “I’m apologizing in advance.”
I shifted the weight of the cake in my arms. “Apologizing for what?”
“That this might be incredibly lame, incredibly awkward, or incredibly not what you want to be doing today.” His face was contemplative as he slowly opened the door.
Regardless of what Devin thought, I was excited about coming to Kyle’s birthday party. To me, it meant that I meant something to Devin. The butterflies in my stomach were tap dancing with spiky shoes, but I tried to ignore them and put on a bright, competent smile.
Devin’s house was a traditional cape style. It was small and cozy. The eggshell colored walls were lined with family pictures, paintings, and shelves of various knick-knacks. The furniture looked like a conscious collection of shabby chic items picked up from antique and thrift stores combined. The air smelled warm, like vanilla and sandalwood.
Devin guided me to the kitchen. “We’re here,” he said to a short, dark-haired woman who was lining up carrots and celery on a platter around a bowl of dip.
The woman looked up, beamed at Devin, and made a beeline for me. I had only a second to pass the cake to Devin before she was on me.
“Devin’s right, you are beautiful.” She wrapped her thick arms around me and her dark curly hair—that also smelled like vanilla—brushed against my cheek. She pulled back from me and looked hard in my eyes.
I wanted to break her stare, but I was captivated by the turquoise color of her eyes. She had long, full eyelashes and very few wrinkles on her face. “Thank you.” Friction heated my arms as she rubbed them.
“We’re so happy you’re here! I’m Lucille, by the way. Devin’s mom,” she said with a clap of her hands. “What can I get you to eat?” She reached for a bowl of potato chips.
I waved my hands in front of me. “Oh nothing, I’m fine.”
She shrugged. “Okay then.” She turned to Devin and took the cake from his hands before placing it on the counter behind her. “Everyone’s outside. You go take this beauty and show her off.” She spun around and went back to work on her appetizer trays.
Devin wrapped his arm around my waist and led me through some sliding glass doors that went out onto a patio area. A gray picket fence surrounded a small patch, and there were multi-colored balloon bouquets strategically placed around along with blue and green streamers and various glittery Happy Birthday signs. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there. A group of three adults were gathered near a table that was lined with food. Two others were sipping beer as they sat on chairs under a large tree. Four little kids—one of them being Kyle—were kicking a soccer ball around. Two ladies were running around and attempting to supervise kids .
“Are you ready to make the rounds?” Devin asked me with a tinge of apprehension in his voice.
“I’ll prance like a show pony,” I said, sticking my chest out loud and proud. Thankfully, he laughed.
At the party, I met two of Devin’s aunts, a married couple that was close friends of his mom, and some parents of the other kids that were at the party. The mood was relaxed even though Devin didn’t seem to be.
“Devin, I need help inside please,” Lucille called out.
He kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
When he left, I thought I’d be fine. But each minute seemed to feel like an hour, and when people started to stare at me as I sat all alone, my heart rate accelerated and my palms started sweating. I figured I’d head inside and see if I could be of any help.
When I poked my head into the kitchen, I couldn’t see Lucille or Devin. Voices carried from the room next door, and I followed them. Slowly, I banked around a wall that lined the living room where I saw Lucille and Devin, but the tone in their voices kept my feet planted where they were.
“You knew he’d be here for Kyle,” Lucille said.
Devin began to pace. “I just thought it would be after we left, that’s all. I don’t want him to start anything up.” He threw his hands to his head. “We’ll just leave.”
“No!” Lucille snapped. “Not before we do the cake. Especially after all the work Mallory did making it. You’ll stay for cake, and then you can leave. Okay?” She touched his arm to stop him from pacing.
His shoulders hunched down. “Okay.” his voice defeated.
“Thank you.” Lucille kissed him on the cheek. “Now before you go back out, can you please clean up your mess on the couch?” She motioned to the couch where I saw some pillows, sheets, and blankets scattered about.
“Fine,” Devin said.
Lucille turned and started to walk towards my direction. Like a deer fleeing from a wolf, I pranced lightly and quickly back out to the patio. My breath was labored as I turned my head to look back—and to make sure I’d fled before she saw me—my eyes caught hold of the cake on the kitchen counter just through the glass doors. If only I could sneak back in and get a spoonful.
I was nursing a lukewarm bottle of water when Devin returned a few minutes later. “Hey,” I said, acting as casual as dress down Fridays.
His limp smile was so forced that it looked like someone was pulling on invisible strings trying to get his lips to curl upward. “Sorry about that. Mom needed help with some stuff.”
“No problem,” I said and handed him a cold beer from the cooler. He looked like he could use it. “You okay?”
His face went blank, and then with a quick tug of my hand, he guided me to the side of the house away from everyone’s sight. My heart raced like a jackrabbit’s as I watched him stare off into the distance, his face stoic and lost.
“Thank you for coming to this,” he finally said. His green eyes seemed to search my face for answers.
“You’re welcome.” The pit of my stomach churned like I’d eaten a pound of bad cheese.
“You didn’t have to.” He broke off the metal tab from his beer can and chucked it into a nearby trashcan.
“But I wanted to. For you.”
He leaned back against the side of the house, and I moved into him and placed my hand on his chest. He shook his head like he was in disbelief that I’d w
ant to be here. But I did. I wanted to be anywhere he was. There was so much more I wanted to know about him, his family, his life, but he seemed so guarded sometimes.
“You’re something else, you know that?” He moved a stray tendril of hair from my cheek to behind my ear, and the feeling of his fingers grazing my ear sent electricity up my spine. “There’s, like, a million things I want to say to you, to tell you, but I don’t want to freak you out.”
Confusion and desire battled for the top spot in my brain. As I looked up at him, I wanted to tell him he could say anything to me. I wanted to tell him that nothing he could say would make me think any differently about him. As I opened my mouth to speak, he beat me to it.
“Mallory.” He took in a deep breath, and the next sound I heard was his mother’s voice cutting through the air.
“Cake time everyone!” she shouted.
He kissed my forehead. “To be continued?”
I nodded and held his hand as we walked back to the party for cake. How big of a spoonful could I discreetly take?
***
My body leaned against Devin for support as the cake was being cut. Lucille sliced through the perfectly frosted cake like a trained ninja. Oooey gooey pieces of sinful cake goodness were stacked on blue Happy Birthday plates, and Lucille was making the rounds, passing it out to her guests. Situations like this were always tricky for me. I didn’t want to look suspicious, but I also wanted to look gracious. “I’m all set thank you,” is what I said when Lucille handed a piece of birthday cake to me, but upon her insistence and her “you could stand to gain a few pounds” comment, I found my shaking hand holding a piece of gorgeous orange chiffon cake. The frosting looked like a sugary heaven just waiting for my tongue to devote myself to it.
Kyle ran around with frosting-covered hands and tried to attack his friends. Devin had finished off his cake in record time, so when I handed him my piece, he had no problem consuming it. He must burn a ton of calories weight lifting or something because he seemed to be able to eat whatever he wanted and his body remained insanely hot.
As I was about to excuse myself—Lucille was headed towards us with double chocolate ice cream—I noticed Devin’s shoulders stiffen up and his gaze shifted to a tall man with short, salt-and-pepper hair who’d just walked in.
“Daddy, you’re here!” Kyle shouted as he raced towards the man and wrapped him in a frosting covered hug.
“Sure I’m here, son,” he said as he handed Kyle a large present covered in blue wrapping paper that was decorated with airplanes.
Kyle took off like a rocket towards his mother. “Can we do presents now?” he asked while bopping up and down as if he had springs in his sneakers.
Lucille brushed down his hair with her hands and ignored Kyle’s father as he walked next to her. “Sure, honey, go sit at the picnic table.” She turned her back on the tall man.
“Yes!” Kyle shouted pumping a fist in the air.
I looked at Devin, who was caught between looking at his dad and the ground. Dad, ground, Dad, ground. Then his back went rigid as his father walked over to us.
“Son,” he said with an outstretched hand.
The two shook hands, strong and long. “Dad.” Devin’s entire demeanor was stiff.
The air was so thick with tension you’d need a chain saw to cut through it. I wanted to shrink into the nearby patch of violets.
“Who’s this?” his dad asked while looking me up and down and checking out more than just the floral pattern of my sundress.
Devin put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. “This is Mallory. Mallory this is Luke, my father.”
We exchanged a pleasant handshake, and just as his father opened his mouth to speak, Lucille’s voice interrupted.
“Okay, everyone, gather around for presents!” she shouted, and all the party goers drifted over to the picnic table.
Saved by the presents. Devin clasped his hand firmly with mine, and we walked over to the picnic table that was covered in a plastic Happy Birthday tablecloth. Kyle was sitting at the head of the table with a pile of presents before him. His eyes were gleaming with anticipation of what could be found under all that shiny wrapping paper. He reached for the biggest present first, which was the one his dad brought for him. With rapid hands, he pulled off the paper and exposed the box. In unison, Lucille and Devin’s mouths hung open.
“Cool!” Kyle said as he studied the photo on the box.
Luke saddled up next to him. “It’s a simulated AK47 SWAT team assault rifle machine gun,” he read as he pointed to the words on the box. “Complete with light scope and shooting sounds.” Luke looked up at Devin. “Now you can pretend to be just like your big brother. You can kill the bad guys and be the hero.” There was an air of pride in his voice as he looked over and winked at Devin.
Heat poured from Devin’s hand, and sweat dripped down his palm like lava, which caused my hand to slip from his. He bolted towards his father and said something in a low tone that was inaudible, and then the two of them moved to a corner of the backyard.
Lucille stood still in shock staring at the photo of the gun for another few seconds before one of her sisters touched her on the arm to jolt her back. “Okay, well.” She grabbed the box from Kyle and slid it under the picnic table. “We’ll look at that later. Why don’t you open your next gift?” She smiled a nothing-to-see-here-smile at Kyle and handed him a gift wrapped in spacemen wrapping paper. Not so delicately, she kicked the gun further under the table.
My eyes moved to Devin and his dad. Devin’s upper body was stiff. I couldn’t see his face, but even from where I stood, I could feel his anger; it emanated off him like steam. Luke looked at his oldest son, and his bushy eyebrows formed together in the middle of his forehead. Obvious confusion over what he’d done that was so wrong. While Devin’s arms jetted into the air in all directions as he spoke. Then Devin scraped his hands over his face and throughout his scalp. There was movement around me, and I think someone asked me a question, but I couldn’t hear properly. I was transfixed. It was like watching a car accident. What I really wanted to do was turn around and leave, but I couldn’t look away.
With a whip of his body, Devin spun back towards me and stomped hard and fast in my direction. He brushed past the area where Kyle was and then he backtracked. “Buddy, I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you later tonight though, alright?” he said to Kyle, who gave him a that’s-cool-I’ve-got-presents-to-open smile as he tore open a new remote controlled racecar set.
“Devin?” my voice cracked like a twelve-year-old puberty-struck boy.
“Let’s go,” he muttered as he passed me. I followed his double-time steps as best as I could, but he kept getting further and further away.
Devin was already in the driver seat of his car by the time I caught up to him in the driveway. He turned over the engine as I shut the car door. There was hardly a moment to secure my seatbelt before he started backing out. We hit the main road, and he revved the engine, which sent smoke billowing out his exhaust pipe. My gut leapt to my throat as he barely slowed down at a stop sign before barreling on ahead.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be driving right now,” I said while holding onto the door handle as he banked a corner.
A moment later, he pulled into a vacant lot and killed the engine. Unable to move, I sat frozen as I watched him flip open the glove box and remove a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He exited the car and began to pace as he lit up a cigarette. Dirt kicked up in soft wisps by his feet as he stomped over the ground again and again.
Unsure of how to handle the moment, I sat in the car feeling detached and confused. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. He paced and smoked and smoked and paced, taking the cigarette forcibly in and out of his mouth. He looked like a fire-breathing dragon, and the tip of the cigarette would illuminate his face as he sucked in hard on the filter. When he’d smoked half of it, I moved from inside the car to standing in front of it. “I didn’t know you smoked,” I said as I wrapped
my arms around my body. Even though it was warm outside, my body was shivering.
“I don’t.” He took a long drag. “I mean I did. I haven’t since I got back.” He paused and looked at the cigarette in his hand. Disgust crossed his face before he dropped it to the ground and smothered it hard with his shoe. “What the hell is wrong with him?” He picked up a small rock from the ground and threw it into the distance. “Doesn’t he know how fucked up that is? To give him that stupid gun. To tell him he’ll be a fucking hero like his big brother.” He threw another rock. This time so hard that he nearly knocked himself off balance.
“I’m sorry,” my voice quaked. If I’d known what to do or what to say, I would have done or said it. I looked at this gorgeous man who was so obviously feeling tortured at this moment, and I wanted a magic ball to tell me what to do to take his pain away.
He let his head and shoulders fall, and he turned and looked at me with obvious resentment in his eyes. “Mal, I’m sorry. This is family shit. I didn’t want the party to go down like this.” He walked over to me, and a softness washed over his face.
“Come on, it’s not your fault. All families have drama. Trust me.” I thought of my dad and Janet and their new baby on the way. I thought of my mom in Vegas spinning the roulette wheel wondering if she ever wondered how I was.
Devin put his forehead on mine. “I’m sorry for storming out. Sorry for speeding. Sorry for smoking.” The pungent smell of tobacco was still on him.
I shifted my body closer to his. “Remember before the cake when you were going to tell me something?” That moment had been playing over and over again in the back of my brain since it happened. “There are, like, a million things I want to say to you, to tell you, but I don’t want to freak you out.”