by Cary Hart
I knew I was right and the shower showed me everything I needed to know. I told him I had to leave, that if he wasn’t going to talk to me, I was going to leave for the night.
Before I could pack my bag, he was on me. Pinned to the bed. Fingers digging in so deep veins popped, instantly purple, his nails drawing blood.
“There will never be anyone but you. You got it? You will never leave me! Not ever!”
I stayed and he showered.
Then last night, he came home and was so excited about landing a new client and when I suggested we celebrate he pulled out an envelope explaining he had been working on this for weeks. An apology.
Today, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. It has been absolutely one of the most relaxing days ever and now, I’m standing here, twirling like a princess waiting for my prince to pick me up.
“Babe?” Brandon calls out.
“I’m in the bedroom.”
“Plans changed a little, but it’s still going to be great.” He rounds the corner. “Holy shit!”
“I know! Today was the best! Thank you.” I run toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck, breathing him in.
Perfume.
Feeling me tense, he pries my arms away. “The dress looks great.” He spins me around “But why does your face look like a whore’s?”
Running back to the mirror, I examine myself. “Brandon, it’s just a little makeup.”
He walks over to the dresser and grabs a tissue. “Take it off.” He holds it out in front of me.
“You really don’t like it?” My eyes begin to water.
Leaning over my shoulder we look at my reflection. He snakes one hand under my arm to cup my chin and smiles, applying enough pressure for my mouth to pop open in pain.
“Brandon,” I plead.
“I think it was a fucking waste of my goddamn money.” He takes the tissue in his other hand smearing the red across my cheek.
“Noooo.” My knees buckle, tears falling.
Wrapping an arm around my waist he supports my weight. “You see this?”
I nod.
Black rimmed eyes, red smeared lips, stream of tears that left a path of destruction.
“I can’t very well take you anywhere looking like that, now can I?”
“No,” I whimper. “I can wash my face.”
“Too late. I have Kate waiting in the car and you are making us late.”
“Kate?”
“My new client.” Brandon lets me go, pushing me forward, right into the mirror. “She wanted to celebrate with us. She wanted to meet you.”
“I-I-didn’t know.” I collapse to the floor.
“That’s the thing. You don’t think. You just assume and then I’m the one always apologizing, picking up the pieces.”
“I’m sorry.” Curling up, I bring my knees to my chest and bury my head in my new little black dress, thankful you can’t see the makeup stains.
“Now, I have to go out there and make up some sorry-ass excuse as to why you can’t come.” He throws the tissue down. “Don’t wait up.”
“Brandon, please.”
He keeps going, leaving with the slam of a door.
Hurrying to the bathroom, I run the water and clean myself up. I need to wash the day away. Every single memory of its existence. Gone.
Without dinner, I head to bed. Curling into myself, I wait for him to come home, but that time doesn’t come. Not until the next morning.
“Babe?” He climbs in behind me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
I roll over to face him. Not only to see him apologize, but so he can see the fingermarks that angrily kiss my face.
He runs a thumb along my skin, tracing the lines of my jaw, his eyes following its path. “Does it hurt?”
I nod.
Leaning in, he rubs his nose along my cheek until he reaches my ear, then whispers, “Do you smell her?”
I can’t help it. My instinct is to take a deep breath. The cheap perfume is stronger than it was in days past, more intense than last night.
“You did this. If you would have been there, this wouldn’t have happened.” He climbs out of bed holding out his hand. “Let’s shower.”
“I don’t want to.” I bring my knees up to my chest, curling into a ball.
“We are. So you can wash her off me.” He walks into the bathroom and starts the water, then comes back out and scoops me up in his arms. “It’s the only way to move on.”
“Oh shit!” I hear his footsteps before I see him.
Hurrying, I try to right myself so I can escape. I can’t do this. I can’t have this happen again.
“Are you okay?” He bends down, scooping me up.
“Pu-put me do-down.” I hit his firm chest. “Now.”
He gently sets me on my feet. “Nina—”
“I’m not going to be the other woman. I’m not going to let you go home and make excuses for why you weren’t there.” I start for the door.
“What are you talking about?” Kyle is in front of me, walking backwards, hands in pockets.
“You being late, the perfume in your truck, the phone call…” I push him out of my way. “Just let me go.”
“Nina…” He steps aside, letting me pass. “I was at Drew’s. When Doug, their other dad, didn’t show, Drew ran them over there since Aubrey wasn’t feeling good. My truck was behind their vehicles so he took it.” He shouts out his explanation, causing me to stop in place.
“And the perfume?”
“Aubrey fell asleep while she was waiting on Doug to show and we were out putting together a playhouse. The girls got into her perfume.”
“It’s not making sense.”
“Just stop and let me explain.”
I turn and wait for him to speak. I want to listen and I really want to believe him.
He’s not Brandon.
“The girls were drenched in all kinds of smells. The mixture made Aubrey sick and Drew wanted it out of the house so he took them over to Doug’s instead of waiting for him to come.” He’s in front of me, begging for me to believe him.
He’s not Brandon.
“Kyle, I’m broken.” A tear begins to escape down my cheek.
I’m embarrassed and ashamed at the way I reacted. He hasn’t done anything to make me believe he is anything but a nice guy.
“And I’m damaged.” He cradles my face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears. “Maybe we can heal each other.”
He pulls me in, my head to his chest. “Hug it out?”
Laughing through the tears I say, “That makes two.”
“So it does.” He squeezes me a little tighter.
Looking up through my tear soaked lashes, “Safety first.”
“Always.”
Nina
I have to be the worst date ever and truth be told, I probably shouldn’t be going on one. It’s been four weeks, since I left without a single goodbye and if I’m being honest, I’m a little worried about why he gave up so fast.
Why didn’t he come looking for me? He spent years breaking me, locking me up in an invisible cell, for what? Just to let me go, no questions asked? The thought makes a chill run down my spine. How can someone go from not being able to live without you to being alone?
Maybe he isn’t. Maybe he was thankful I finally left, freeing him of his demons. Maybe I’m the one who brought the worst out in him and he’s replaced me. Finally, at peace.
Do I even care?
No, I don’t. Two years ago, yes. One year ago I stayed, worried he would do something to himself. Four weeks ago, I left fearing what he would do to me.
Today, I’m trying to be me.
Who am I?
I’m so desperate to find my voice, to live my life for me, that I keep everyone at arm’s length, terrified to let anyone in again.
I don’t want to be that person. I want to live life loving it, not second-guessing every person and every decision.
“Hey, you with me?”
Kyle’s voice is soft, concerned.
Flipping down the mirror, I examine myself. Eyes puffy and bloodshot. This is no good. Twisting in my seat, I frown, pointing at my face. “I can’t go out looking like this.”
“I think you look beautiful.” His smile is crooked and kind.
“How can you say that?” I turn back to the mirror, tugging at the corners my eyes. “I look—”
“Like someone who just let me in a little.”
Kyle reaches over the center console, holding out his hand, palm up. “Hand hug?” He gives me a sideward glance, wiggling his fingers.
Folding up the mirror, I give him my full attention. “You want me to hold your hand?”
“Well, I guess if you want to hold on a little longer than a hand hug is supposed to last…” His grin is back, dimples and all. “I wouldn’t mind.” He winks.
How can I resist that? He has seen all kinds of crazy in the last few days and each time I begin to push, he pulls. Not in a possessive, you will be mine kind of way, but an I get it one.
Reaching out, I intertwine my fingers with his, closing my eyes, accepting what he has to offer.
Understanding.
“See? Hand hugs are just as effective, don’t you think?” He gives mine a little squeeze.
“They are.” I’m lost in him, in this moment, forgetting the events that had taken place.
“Well, how I see it, since this makes three hugs, we can either part now, taking the chance we may need another soon, or we can make this one long, drawn-out hug. Soaking up all its superpowers, saving the others for later.” He brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“I’m thinking this hug has turned into handholding.” I raise an eyebrow, curious.
Kyle’s lips purse, his eyes squint into slits. “I can see where you get that, but I’m still saying hand hug.” He nods, face relaxing.
I can’t help it. I have a real smile on my face. Not the kind where it’s forced, but a smile from being happy.
This man is sitting beside me doing everything he can to set me at ease. I accused him of so many things…but instead of pointing fingers as I have experienced time and time again, he’s showing me that it’s not that serious. Sometimes situations are just that. Situations. Nothing more and nothing less. You just deal and move on.
Is that what I’m finally doing? Moving on?
“So, even though I think you look gorgeous,” he gives me another squeeze, “I’m thinking going out is not an option, am I right?”
Swinging my head around, I take him in, wondering what is the right answer. Before, I would have run every scenario in my head, contemplating the outcome.
Flipping the mirror back down, one handed, I look myself over. Eyes wide, yet clear. The puffiness almost gone. Makeup a little worn, but not noticeable. Honestly, we could go somewhere, but I’m not willing to leave this moment, the security of being safe.
“Do you care if we just get a pizza or maybe a sandwich to go?” I quickly turn, not wanting to see his reaction. I would hate myself if he was disappointed.
“Of course not. How about…” He trails off.
“Or we could drive around and I’ll just eat something when I get back.” I can’t help but continue. “I mean that’s if you want to drive around. I know this isn’t what you had planned—”
“Nina…” Another squeeze. This one longer, putting me at ease.
Maybe this hugging thing is for real.
“I was just going to suggest something, but I don’t want to freak you out or you to get the wrong idea.” He brings our hands back up. This time brushing my knuckles over his lips, while he searches my face. “I want to take you someplace, but I want it to be a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
“Yeah, but it’s a couple miles out of town and, well…” Kyle takes a deep breath, setting our hands down, before he continues. “I need you to trust me.”
Without thinking, I reach over with my other hand, placing it on his arm. “I can.” I begin to lightly brush his arm. “I mean, I do. I trust you.”
“Well, good.” He glances down and grins.
“I’m sorry.” I realize that I’m still caressing his arm. Pulling back one hand, I try to free up the other.
“I like it,” he blurts out, not allowing our hand hug to break.
“I do too.” I’m not sure where the honesty comes from.
“Then hands back on me, woman.” He turns, taking us down a long, dark, and very rocky road. “Remember? Trust.”
“I can do abandoned road, but if we pass a cemetery then I’m outta here,” I laugh
Kyle stiffens, slowing down. “What about pets?”
“I love animals.”
“Dead ones?”
“Okay this isn’t exactly…” I search the area, wondering if I made the wrong decision.
“Pet cemetery. Just a small one,” he says. “Actually, I’m not even sure if you can see it from the road.” He looks over to me. “I promise, it’s not as creepy as it sounds.”
“Remember that movie?” I shiver thinking about it.
“Confession? I can’t do scary movies. They freak me out.” He lets out a slight laugh.
“Me too.”
“It’s the music.”
“You totally get me. Sometimes, if something freaky comes on the TV, I’ll throw my hands over my ears and sing la-la-la-la until it’s over,” I tell him.
“Well, I’m not that bad.”
“So, I’m guessing you don’t like Halloween either?” I ask, enjoying our little conversation.
“I love it, just not scary costumes. I think they’re unnecessary.”
“Christmas?”
“It’s everything, especially the cookies.”
“I make really awesome Christmas cookies.”
“Can’t wait to try some.” He winks.
Christmas? Cookies? I tally the months in my head. Is he serious or just being friendly?
The truck comes to a stop, saving me from my thoughts. “We’re here.” He puts the truck in park.
“What’s this?” I’m in awe of the massive cabin in front of me.
“It’s my cabin.” He looks over at me and for the first time I can see the insecurity, the need of approval…from me.
“It’s huge.”
“That’s what she said.” He winks, breaking the ice a little more.
“Always a comedian.” I reach for the handle, but Kyle breaks our connection by reaching across my lap, stopping me. “Nina, chivalry’s not dead.”
“What?”
“Please, let me.” He nods towards the door.
“Oh! Okay.”
Tucking my hands in between my legs, I straighten my shoulders and sit a little taller, waiting for him to run around. I haven’t really noticed it before, but it’s always been there. Java Talk, Woody’s, offering to take me home, helping me paint, letting me go first… always the gentleman.
I’ve been so set on proving myself I really haven’t taken a look at the big picture. Kyle is almost too good to be true.
A good guy.
Hitting his hand on the hood, he hurries around to open my door. “After you m’lady.” He waves his hand in a circular motion as he bows.
“Why thank you kind sir.” I hold out my hand for him to take and step down doing a little curtsy.
Standing side by side, Kyle’s hands now in his pockets, we stand there admiring his new cabin together.
“Did you just buy it?” I glance up at him.
Looking back down at me, unusually quiet. “I built it.”
Eyes wide, I look between him and this monstrosity he calls a cabin. “This whole thing?”
This gets him to crack a smile. “The whole thing.”
“You?”
“Me.”
“Kyle, this is amazing. You built this with your own two hands?” I spin to stand in front of him.
“These…” He removes his hands from his pockets, holding them in fro
nt of him. “…some cool tools and big badass equipment, but yeah, I did.”
Not even thinking, I grab both of his hands and hold them in mine. “These are amazing. You built that…” I let go of one hand to gesture over my shoulder. “A home. Your home.”
A home I wish I had. Everything from the rockers on the wraparound porch to the tire swing off to the side screams family. It’s everything I have ever dreamed about.
“You really know how to build one’s ego.” His gaze is fixed on mine as he begins to joke. “I should show you all the projects I have worked on.”
“I would love that, but right now…” I begin walking backward, his hand still in mine. “I want to see what those hands built.”
Not letting go, we walk hand in hand toward his home. Giving my hand a little squeeze, he whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I nudge his shoulder.
“For trusting in me.”
Trust.
There’s that word again. I did. I let go of my fears and had faith in a man I didn’t really know. And now, instead of following, I’m leading myself to the unknown.
Kyle
“Kyle, this…it’s incredible.” Nina, walks around the great room, twirling. “The ceilings are so tall and this…” She walks over to the picture window that showcases the woods surrounding the cabin.
“I have a confession.” I walk up behind her, hands in pockets. The desire to touch her is almost uncontainable.
“Hmm?” She wraps her arms around herself as she turns to face me.
“I didn’t exactly build this whole place by myself.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows scrunch together, doubt creeping up on her beautiful face.
“My dad.” I hurry to get the words out before she has time to get in her own head. “This was his dream for me and my mom.”
“It’s a good dream.” Her smile is weak. She holds out her hand, requesting mine. “Wanna hand hug?”
Nodding, I take her hand in mine. “Hand hugging while talking is always good.”
I step next to her and we both become mesmerized by the darkness that is overcoming the summer sky.
“My dad, he owned Woody’s. He was Woody.”
Turning her head slightly, she looks up at me. “Do you look like him?”
“Yeah. Just a younger version,” I answer. I’m not sure if she knows that she is setting me at ease, giving me time to tell the story I want to tell, but she is.